Always at My Side
by emeraldorchids
Summary: Miranda runs into her soon-to-be assistant while walking into Elias Clarke one morning, and her life is changed forever when she finds herself considering friendship with Andrea. With the death of Andrea's grandmother, an impending divorce, and the risk of losing her daughters to their bigoted father, they need each other more than ever. Miranda/Andrea. Miranda POV. COMPLETE.
1. Pt 1 - The frumpy girl

_Title: Always at My Side_

_Pairing: Miranda/Andrea_

_Rating: K+ (Part 4 and beyond will be M)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Devil Wears Prada._

_A/N: Miranda POV; begins on Andrea's first day at Runway, slight AU; slow build Mirandy, with super brief mention of Stephen early on. Total of 4 parts, each with about 5 chapters. Enjoy :)_

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Part One: The frumpy girl

Chapter 1

It's Monday morning and Roy cannot manage to get me near Runway in time for my meeting. Huffing, I throw open the door and forge my own way, weaving between the parked cars along Fifth Avenue. Walking along the sidewalk in front of me is an unfortunately frumpy woman—I say 'unfortunate' because once I stormed past her, I saw her youth. She couldn't have been a day over twenty-five, though her ill-fitting and mismatched clothing might have said otherwise. For a moment, I almost stopped walking. Her pure beauty—full lips, deep brown eyes, thick, long (no doubt natural) brown hair—the most marvelous canvas in the world. Oh, the things I could do with her, I think, quickly shaking myself from the notion as security opens the non-revolving door for me at Elias Clarke.

As I wait for an elevator to take me up to my domain, I hear an unfamiliar voice asking security for a Miss Emily Charlton. Turning my head, I meet her eyes. She's no doubt here for the second assistant position, as there would be no other reason for Emily to associate with such an unfashionable woman. "Robert, she's with me," I call, gesturing for her to step forward. After getting her horrific briefcase stuck in the turnstile, she meets me, reaching out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Andy," she said. "And you are?"

"One should always know the name of one's potential employer prior to the interview," I stated. "Take the next elevator to eighteen," I added, stepping in and pressing the button before the girl could follow me. I'm not sure why I feel so drawn to her—she's really quite hideous at first glance—but there is something about her that's almost attractive, that makes me want to go all soft, and over what? A frumpy woman I encountered on the street? Damn, I need to get laid, I thought. Pulling out my phone, I quickly texted my husband, "Sex tonight?" He responds immediately, "Sure. Does 10:15 work?" I write back one word: "Yes."

It's really no secret that my marriage is less than perfect, but Stephen dresses up well, is always willing to attend dinners and benefits if there's liquor involved, and someone once commented that we looked good together because our hair matched. What an odd thing to say, but at least they couldn't call me a cougar.

The elevator doors opened and Emily was there to greet me. Sometimes, I don't quite understand how she knows exactly when I'm going to arrive. Part of me wants to be devious and exit on the seventeenth floor and take the north stairwell up to my office just to see the look on her face. I think I might do that soon. She is clearly getting too comfortable with our routine.

"Emily, I expect the position of second assistant to be filled by the end of the day today. I expect to evaluate all potential candidates myself, seeing as the last three you selected were highly incompetent." Emily tried to say something, but all I could think about was the frumpy girl. "That's all," I said, waving Emily away as I entered my sanctuary.

Looking through some of the notes on my desk, I begin making my list for the day when Emily approaches my door. "Miranda, the first candidate has arrived and, well, you don't even need to—" I looked up over the rim of my reading glasses, glaring at the young woman who dared tell me what I need or don't need.

"Send her in. That's all," I say, returning my gaze to my paperwork.

"Umm, hi, Mrs. Priestly, I'm Andy. Remember? We met downstairs? I'm here for the position of second assistant." _Remember?_ I thought, _How could I forget? _Her hand, suspended in midair, hovered over my desk. Staring at her fingers, her long elegant fingers—god, what those fingers could do to me, I thought. Quickly reacting, I reached up and placed my hand in hers. She shook vigorously, the harsh movement resonating all the way up to my shoulder. It was a brusque and manly handshake, but somehow it brought a smile to my face, as I expected no less from the frumpy woman.

"Your given name is?" I asked, tapping my pencil against the desk.

"Uhh, Andrea Elizabeth?" she replied, as if she was unsure of her own name.

"Andrea, call me Miranda," I instructed, drawing my hand back. "Why do you want this position?" I asked her. "You don't know a thing about fashion—have you ever even read Runway?"

"No, but—" she whined, as if there existed an excuse for my argument while she dangled a resume over my desk. But something about her, the way she didn't cower when I criticized her, how she was almost proud that she was so supremely unqualified. "Have Emily settle the paperwork with HR. She will show you your desk and train you. That's all."

Even after dismissing her, she still stood in my office, dangerously close to my desk and the chairs no one dared touch. I looked up from the paper I was reading. Did she not hear me properly? Meeting my eyes, she began taking a few steps backwards, still in shock, apparently. Well, so was I, because all I could think of were those long fingers stroking my folds, full lips pressed to my nipple.

She turned on her heels, almost curtsying as she headed over to Emily's desk. I turned again to my phone. "We need to make it earlier," I texted. "12:15 at the Four Seasons?" he replied. "OK," I wrote back, tossing my phone back to the table with an audible thud. I didn't know if I could wait even five hours as her presence alone left a mysterious air in the office. _Who are you Andrea Elizabeth and why am I so allured? _I wondered, thumbing through photographs.

The morning dragged. No matter what I tried to focus on, my thoughts drifted to the young woman who hovered so clumsily outside my office.

"Miranda, it's noon. Roy is downstairs for you," Emily called. I quickly stood from my desk and headed for the outer office, taking my coat and bag from the ever-efficient Emily.

"Bye, Miranda! Have a good lunch!" Andrea called, waving animatedly. I groaned aloud as I turned on my heel and stormed out of the office, anxious, hoping that the elevator would move more quickly by the mere centripetal force of my marching in circles.

"Roy, circle the block. I'll be no more than thirty minutes," I instructed as I stepped out of the car and into the Four Seasons. Sonia, the assistant manager, recognized me and inconspicuously greeted me, handing me a key to the room. Sighing, I pressed the elevator, riding to the twenty-third floor and tightly clenching my thighs.

As I entered the room, I realized Stephen has not yet arrived. Quickly, I walk over to the desk and set down my bag. I step out of my heels and unbutton my blouse, draping it over the back of the chair. Unzipping my skirt, I slide it down my legs and neatly fold it on the desk. I cannot understand why the young woman is infiltrating my thoughts, but all I can think about is her hair, her lips, her eyes, those fingers… Forcing my thoughts aside, I sat on the chair, pulling out my Blackberry and scrolling through emails.

I heard the keycard in the door, and took a deep breath. _Finally, some release,_ I thought. I dropped my phone into my bag and stood, smoothing my hands over my body. Today, I was wearing black lace lingerie with thigh-high stockings. Perfect, I thought, grinning slyly as I approached the door.

Stephen had just shut the door behind him when I pushed him against the door, knocking the keycard out of his hand and to the floor. I unclasped his belt and slid his pants down, stroking and licking his already hard cock. He quickly slipped out of his suit coat and tossed it on the nearby chair. I climbed on top of the bed and kneeled, knowing he would follow me.

Twelve minutes later, I'm peeling myself up off the bed, my muscles aching from the shattering orgasm I so willingly endured. I buttoned my blouse and spritzed some j'adore perfume. My husband stepped out, looking completely put together—something I knew I could never manage today. "Have a good afternoon," I whispered, softly pecking his lips as I passed by him and slipped into the bathroom.

"I have to rush back to the office. I'll see you later tonight? After 10?" he called.

"Mmm, I'll wait up," I replied. The door opened and shut, signaling his departure. Those were the only words we had spoken to each other all day, save the few text messages arranging this tryst. Perhaps that was what attracted me to Stephen more than anything: his economical approach to words.

As expected, I was right on schedule, walking out of the building at 12:38pm. Everything in my world was precise, even when unexpected. But now, now I had to return to the office, where the new girl, _Andrea Elizabeth_, would no doubt be.

Preparing myself to reenter the office, I tried to quell my irrational thoughts. _Andrea is an assistant, and will likely fail me sooner rather than later, _I tell myself, _No, she will not be interested in going home with you, so don't even bother thinking about it_. Why did it seem so much more acceptable for men to have mistresses at work?

"Where is what's-her-name?" I ask Emily. "I don't recall dismissing her, did I?"

"No, no, Miranda. She's with Nigel and Serena. They, um, decided she needed a crash course in fashion," Emily stammered.

I nodded, not needing to know the details. "You will continue to deliver the Book until she is fully trained," I told Emily as I walked into my own office. Hours went by. Hundred of emails read and replied to. Promptly at six o'clock, I strode past Emily's desk to the closet to retrieve my own coat. It was funny, watching the redhead's stunned face as I picked up my own items, as if hell had frozen over or something.

Riding in the car to my home, I couldn't help but feel like I should have said goodbye to Andrea, stopped by the Art Department or given her some small sign that I was pleased with her—why, I don't know, she hadn't even done anything for me yet.

When Stephen came home, the girls were already asleep, and I, too, had crawled into bed with a book. I always tried to read the NYT top bestsellers, but for some reason, this one was not capable of capturing my interest. I heard the beep of the alarm when he entered, heard him toss his keys on the desk in the kitchen and grab a bottle of water before heading upstairs. He was so incredibly predictable.

He quietly opened the door, apparently not wanting to wake me. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, "Vince was there, so I couldn't slip out, but—"

"Shh," I said, glancing at the clock and since it was just past 11pm, "just come to bed." I placed my bookmark between the pages and set it on the nightstand, along with my reading glasses. I couldn't have looked very desirable—my damp hair drying in waves framing my makeup-less face. I wore a sleeveless cotton-blend nightgown because it was comfortable, and I was in my own bed: the one place I could let the layers slip away. Once Stephen crawled into the other side, I reached over and turned out the bedside lamp. "How was your meeting?" I asked, not really listening to his reply, just nodding and feigning interest.

"What was going on with you today?" he asked me. "It's been months since I've gotten a horny text from you."

"Oh," I said, grateful the darkness hid my blush, "just, you know, stressed with the Board." I lied. I didn't want to tell him about my new assistant, how I was fantasizing about her and needed release. I knew the lie wouldn't last long. I was lucky to be shrouded in darkness and exhaustion tonight. Tomorrow, I might not be so lucky.

"Well, it was a welcome surprise," he said reaching over and wrapping his arm around me, "We should do it more often."

"Mmm, can you imagine the headlines: 'Miranda Priestly seen exiting the Four Seasons for an afternoon quickie with husband!'" I said, smiling as I leaned back into his strong chest. _I wonder what she feels like,_ I thought,_ my mind drifting to the young woman's slim, lanky arms._

"Honey?" Stephen questioned, softly squeezing me. "I asked if you wanted to pick up where we left off this afternoon," he said, nuzzling my neck. The heat of his lips was sending jolts through my body.

"Noo," I said, softly pulling away. "I would just love to get a good night's rest," I said. I couldn't honestly let him make love to me while my mind was focused on someone completely different. One lie was enough for tonight. He asked if I had a meeting with Irv tomorrow, knowing I had a tendency to be more stressed then. "No, there's a new second assistant Emily will be training. She's…frumpy," I said, trying to be honest.

"So in other words, she won't last long and will make your lives hell for the two weeks she's there," he said, chuckling."Goodnight, Miranda," he kissed the top of my head and rolled to the other side.

TBC


	2. Part 1 Chapter 2

Part 1, Chapter 2

Several weeks later, I was honestly surprised that Andrea Elizabeth Sachs was still employed as my second assistant. Moreover, she was doing quite well at her job, catching on much more quickly than any of the other girls I've seen through the years. Of course, her personality had led much of my staff to befriend the young woman. Nigel was constantly gushing over her, giving her clothes from the closet and sending her to Serena for hair and makeup tips. I must admit, haute couture did look good on the girl. Emily was quick to teach her the 'rules' of working for me, and because of the dedication of my staff, I didn't even hear, much less see Andrea some days.

We were returning from a viewing at James Holt, when I realized I needed to give Andrea more responsibility. I needed to test her, and she needed to fail, because once she fails, it will be nearly impossible for me to desire her any longer. "Andrea, you will deliver the Book tonight. Get the key from Emily," I said, sliding into the backseat of the towncar before she could protest.

That evening, I left Runway relatively early. The girls were in their rooms all night working on a project for school, and I took advantage of the opportunity to review our quarterly projections and budget. It was a data-heavy task, manipulating numbers in Excel. I settled in the sitting room on the second floor with my laptop, and after a little while, I heard the front door open and slam shut. It was a little early for the Book, but surely even Andrea would know better than to slam the door. "Stephen?" I called.

"You're home?" he asked. I quickly saved my work and closed my computer. Smoothing out my black skirt, I pulled my champagne embroidered jacket tighter to my chest and stepped into the heels I had discarded nearly an hour ago. Something about wearing heels when talking to Stephen made me feel more confident, more feminine.

"Darling, what's wrong?" I asked, standing there in front of the sofa while he approached from the stairs.

"You didn't show. I waited for an hour, Miranda. An hour!" He ran his hands through his hair, and I suddenly remembered we had made dinner plans to celebrate our anniversary since I had a gala to attend on Friday and he had a business dinner Saturday. "Jesus, why didn't you respond to my texts?"

"Stephen, please," I said, lowering my voice. "The girls are upstairs studying. I'm sorry. I must have left my phone downstairs or in my coat pocket." I reached out to him, hoping I could calm him with my feminine charm, but he pushed my hand away. "Stephen, I'm sorry. Look, let's just go to the bedroom—"

"No, Miranda, you don't get it," he said to me. "You don't know what it felt like to be sitting there in that restaurant, sipping on my wine while the glass across from me stood untouched, everyone looking at me and thinking, 'there he is again, waiting for _her_.'" _Again_, I thought. It was only two days ago that I was forty minutes late for lunch with him at Pastis.

"Honey, my schedule isn't like yours," I whispered, terrified that the girls would wake up to our argument. "I cannot control everything. Tuesday there was that meeting, and today I was so engrossed in the projections I lost all sense of time," I pleaded.

"Or were you engrossed in that assistant of yours you can't seem to stop talking about?" he asked. "We used to be able to have a real conversation, Miranda, but now, it's like if I'm not _Runway_, Irv, or Andrea, I don't exist," he said, walking towards the bedroom.

I quickly followed him and grabbed his wrist. "Look, I'm sorry, Stephen. Please, forgive me," I said.

"Miranda, this is—" Stephen said, his words trailing off as he looked to the staircase. I followed his eyes to the staircase and saw her—Andrea. How long had she been there? What all had she heard? I was frozen. I couldn't move. Stephen had already slipped into the bedroom. She was gone almost as quickly as she appeared, having left the Book at the top of the staircase.

I was still standing there, frozen, for some time after she left. "Was that her?" Stephen asked, leaning against the doorframe in his boxers and undershirt.

I kicked the Book down the stairs and stormed past him into the bedroom. "Of course," I hissed. "Who else would be stupid enough to come upstairs?" I opened the top dresser drawer to select a nightdress and slammed it shut, storming off into the bathroom.

"Hey," he said, following me and wrapping his arms around me from behind. He was strong, and I knew it was useless to fight. _It was, indeed, useless to fight anymore,_ I thought as I slumped against him, tears rolling down my cheeks. "What's wrong?" he asked, turning me around in his arms. I kept my head down, unwilling to make eye contact since he made his disappointment so clear minutes before. I don't know why it mattered so much, really. I knew Stephen was certainly not the love of my life, but I guess I just wanted that relationship—the feeling of stability, of having someone to turn to, of making someone proud. It felt like I had just lost all of that in the past ten minutes.

As hot tears flowed down my face, Stephen walked me over to the bed. I'm sure it scared the hell out of him—he'd never see me cry before. "I just…want to go…to bed," I cried, pulling away from him and curling into a ball on the mattress.

"Okay," he said, softly brushing my hair out of my eye. It killed me that he was being so kind when I felt so…guilty. If he only knew some of my thoughts of Andrea. "I'll check on the girls and be back…err, or did you want me to sleep in the guest room?" he asked.

"I don't care," I muttered.

When he came back, I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth. I listened closely and determined he was, in fact, staying in our bedroom—_or was it my bedroom?_ Praying he wouldn't ask any more questions, I quietly shut the light and slipped into bed.

"Miranda?" he whispered, "I'm sorry I overreacted about dinner tonight. And that I embarrassed you in front of your assistant." He softly traced his hand down my back, soothingly almost. I couldn't take it. I didn't deserve to be treated so kindly when all I could think about was the young brunette.

But, I knew what he wanted. "Make it quick," I finally said as I turned onto my back. _At least after sex I would be able to sleep,_ I reasoned.

The next morning, Stephen was up and out the door much earlier than normal. When I woke, I saw that he had moved my computer onto the desk and plugged it in.

My stomach churned at the thought of him touching my computer—did he access my files? Read any of my daydreaming files I typed just to make myself look busy at work? Check my web history to see I search Andrea's name at least twice a day? As I felt fear creeping up my veins, I relaxed, realizing that I had a simple choice to make.

On the way to _Runway_, I decided she needed even more responsibility, one final test. Not only would I give her time constraints, but I would make sure she was busy with other Runway-related errands so she would have even less time to accomplish the task. And to top it off, it would be a task that even I myself might not be able to accomplish.

"Andrea?" I called just as I got settled in the morning.

"Yes, Miranda?" she came running in, notebook in hand. "About last night, I'm—"

"Andrea, I need the new Harry Potter book for the twins," I said, ignoring her apologies about last night's incident (though not completely disregarding that she was smart enough to take the blame). "Oh, okay," Andrea said, smiling smugly. "I'll—I'll go down to Barnes & Noble and get them right now."

"Did you fall down and smack your little head on the pavement?" I hissed, rolling my eyes. "We have all of the published Harry Potter books. The twins want to know what happens next."

Her big brown eyes grew wide as her jaw dropped. I pretended to be reading a newspaper, though I couldn't help but watch her expression over the rim of my glasses. "You—you want the unpublished manuscript."

I smiled, knowing I was baiting the young woman. "Well, we know everyone in publishing, so it shouldn't be a problem, should it? And you can do anything. Right?" Andrea began stammering, but I added one last constraint. "They are going to their grandmother's this weekend, their train leaves at 3. And Andrea," I added as she was rushing out the door, "if you don't get those books by 2pm, you can just forget about coming back."

I sank back into my chair, smiling at the chaos that had become my outer office. Andrea, who was wearing a stunning olive green dress, no doubt with a corset underneath, was haunting my dreams and distracting me at work. This would be her undoing, I just knew it. And then, I could rightfully let her go and never deal with her again.

Over the next few hours, I made sure to have Emily send Andrea on other mundane errands—fetching scarves, lunch, coffee, none of which I actually needed. It was remarkable how much I was able to accomplish that afternoon, knowing I no longer needed to concern myself with the formerly-frumpy brunette. No, she was no longer frumpy. In the past few weeks, I had to admit that Nigel found a way to clear away the clutter and reveal her true beauty.

"Miranda?" she called, jarring me from my thoughts. "Here is the Harry Potter manuscript," she said, grinning as she set it on my desk. "And your latte," she added.

"Only _one_ copy, Andrea?" I hissed, snatching my latte from her hand. "What are my daughters supposed to do with that—_share?" _

"No, Miranda. This is just an extra copy…for our records. I had two copies printed and bound," she said proudly, standing there, her shoulders back and head held high.

"Well, where are these mysterious copies?" I asked.

"Oh, they're with the twins, on the train to grandma's," she said proudly. "Will there be anything else?"

"Uh-uh," I said, shaking my head, truly baffled at how she was able to accomplish this impossible task. "That's all," I said as I plucked my latte from the desk and pressed it to my lips, quickly spinning around to face the window. No, this could not be happening. My lips trembled as I squeezed my eyes shut and tightly crossed my legs. Andrea Elizabeth had exceeded my expectations, and for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do next.

As I sat in silence in my office, I considered texting my husband, but decided I needed to stop using him. The truth was that I wanted to be closer to the curious young woman. I wanted to know her, to know more about her life, her passions. I still couldn't figure out _why_ I cared, but at this point it was useless to waste time trying to figure it out. I needed to keep her close.

TBC


	3. Part 1 Chapter 3

Part 1, Chapter 3

Friday was the night of the _Runway_ gala, and honestly, I wasn't paying much attention to my assistants as I was bombarded with last-minute changes and a near editorial disaster. Returning to my office after a meeting with Nigel, I stopped and paused in the outer office while Emily coughed and blew her nose into a tissue. "Andrea," I said, "You will attend the gala tonight. Emily, bring her up to speed."

I'm not sure which one of them gasped, but Andrea's voice rang clear: "I thought only the first assistant went to the gala, Miranda?"

"Yes, well, only when the first assistant hasn't decided to become and incubus of viral plague. That's all," I said. Sighing, I sank into my chair, completely confident that Andrea would rise to the occasion.

Later that evening, I sat on a stool in front of my mirror. My gown was on, my hair was fixed, and makeup perfectly applied by Serena. Roy had been waiting downstairs for at least ten minutes. I stared at my phone, waiting for a message to appear. Checking the clock, I sighed and sent my husband a note: "I cannot be late tonight. Meet me at the Met?" Slipping my phone into my evening bag, I gathered my dress and descended the stairs. Wishing for once that my girls or someone were home to reassure me.

Roy helped me and my dress into the towncar, and once he returned to the front seat, he turned to ask if we needed to stop somewhere and pick Stephen up. _I wouldn't even know where to find him_, I thought. "No, just get me to the gala," I said, closing my eyes and trying to relax.

Once I was at the Met, I was surprised at the calming effect the surroundings had on me. But then again, I controlled every detail of the gala, the placement of every flower, every chair. As I strolled around the floor, Andrea and Emily flanking my sides, I was reassured as they took turns whispering names into my ears. I must admit, hearing Andrea's voice whispered so quietly in my ear sent a chill through my body, one I could only shake off by turning my head side to side.

Then, just before I was about to ask Emily to call Roy, a deep booming voice stopped me in my tracks. "Hey!" he shouted. I turned, watching Irv and several other board members follow the voice as well. I slowly made my way through the crowd, attempting to diffuse the situation. "When do we eat?" he bellowed.

I slipped my arm around him, trying to guide him away from the center of the room. "Darling, there you are," I said with a smile.

"It's been a rotten evening," he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the hall as others' conversations began to diminish. I could smell the Jack Daniels on his breath as he wildly gestured with his arms. "People out front didn't even recognize me!" he said. I was able to grab both of his wrists, holding his hands down as I silently begged him to stop making a scene. "You know, one of them called me 'Mr. Priestly,' and now the damn bartender won't even serve me!"

"Darling, please," I whispered as I turned my face away from my colleagues.

Now, Stephen turned to Irv, whom he has met on countless occasions. "Why don't _you_ get me another drink?" Stephen shouted, "They'd have to listen to you wouldn't they, little guy?" Stephen chuckled as I did my best to hide my horrified expression.

"Stephen, please," I whispered, hoping against hope that Irv somehow hadn't heard his comment. Glancing over, I quickly realized how wrong I was, seeing Irv's face grow bright red as if he were about to explode.

Then, I saw Andrea step forward, gently taking Irv by the elbow. "Excuse me, Mr. Ravitz?" she said, turning him away from the scene Stephen was creating. "I have just been dying to ask if it's true that John Cheever used to ghost-write…"

I sighed as Irv turned around and the conversation in the room quickly picked up. My heart was still beating wildly, but all I could think about was getting Stephen away from my colleagues. He stumbled and bent down to kiss my neck as I tried to step away. Over his shoulder, I saw Andrea listening intently to Irv, but keeping an eye on me as well. "Thank you," I silently mouthed to her before turning back to my husband.

"M'randa—" he slurred.

I quickly wrapped my arm around him and gestured for one of the waiters to help me. "Okay, darling, we're going to get you home and find you a nice, big drink, okay?" Without much protest, and mostly due to the young men who helped me keep him upright, I was able to walk him to the car, where Emily had already delivered my evening wrap and bag.

In the backseat, Stephen couldn't keep to himself. "Don't touch me!" I finally snapped, sliding over as close to the door as possible. His hands continued roaming, pawing at my chest while I struggled to push him away. I pulled out my blackberry and began scrolling through emails, trying to distract myself from the unwanted attention. A new message from Andrea appeared at the top of my inbox, and out of concern that something may have gone wrong at the gala after I left, I quickly opened it.

From: Sachs, Andrea  
To: Priestly, Miranda  
Subject: tonight

Hi Miranda,  
Just wanted to let you know there was no mention of Stephen or anything after you left, though I did have a frightfully boring 20-minute conversation with Irv. (If you were anyone else, I'd say you owe me for that.) I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I hope everything is okay at home. Call if you need me to take the girls away or anything.

See you Monday,  
Andrea

I bit my lower lip, fighting back tears as I read through the email from my second assistant, wondering where she got her boldness. No one else would dare say such things to me, but the thing is, I really didn't mind it from her. I had to chuckle at her "frightfully boring" conversation with Irv. _Yes, I do owe her for that_, I thought.

Roy pulled up to the townhouse and parked the car, knowing he would need to get out and help drag Stephen upstairs and into the guest bedroom. "Miranda, if there's anything else you need tonight, I wait around," Roy said.

"Don't be ridiculous, Roy. I'm sure your wife despises me enough as is. As for Stephen, I'm sure he will be asleep by the time I get upstairs. Goodnight, and thank you," I said, kissing him softly on the cheek as he headed out the door.

Locking the door, I engaged the security alarm and turned out the hall light, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge before heading upstairs. In my room, I carefully stepped out of the black Valentino gown and hung it back up in the garment bag in my closet. I washed my face and slipped on a plum silk neglige. Something about galas and events always made me feel sexy, and tonight was no different. Cotton simply would not do. I pulled a post-it from my bedside table and one of the bottles of water I brought upstairs, slipping into the guest room and setting the water on the nightstand for Stephen. He had apparently stayed awake enough to remove his tuxedo, as it was piled on the floor next to the bed and he was laying on top of the covers with his socks, boxers, undershirt, and one arm of his dress shirt on. I leaned over and carefully undid the cuff link, sliding the sleeve off and adding the shirt to the pile on the floor.

Post-it and pen still in my hand, I took a deep breath. Initially, I planned on writing something sweet, like _Sleep well, darling xo_, but watching him lying there, passed out in his own drunken stupor, I simply couldn't bring myself to speak in niceties. I quickly scribbled something on the pale yellow paper and stuck it to the nightstand where he'd be sure to see it.

Once in my bedroom, I made sure to lock the door just in case he woke up in a wandering mood. I was usually the one who didn't want to lock the door, but that was mostly because I wanted to be accessible if the girls needed something in the middle of the night. But tonight, they were with their father, so here I was, locking myself inside my bedroom, or maybe, I was just locking Stephen out.

Laying down and turning out the light, I tossed and turned. My eyes were exhausted, but I was still too wound up from the evening's events to rest. There was no way I would be sleeping anytime soon. I pulled out my phone and suddenly recalled that I hadn't responded to Andrea's email. Too tired to type out a message, I dialed her number, intending to leave her a brief message.

"Hello, Miranda?" she answered. "Shhh, I'm on the phone," I heard her whisper.

"Andrea, I—is this a bad time?" I asked, realizing she was with other people.

"No, not at all. Sorry, I'm just sharing a cab with some other people. What do you need?" she asked.

"I was just…" I began before I realized that I really didn't know what I wanted. Sighing, I thought_, I just wanted to hear her voice._

"Wait, stop!" she shouted. "Miranda? We're actually turning down your block now. Would you like me to come up?"

"I, uh…what are you…yes, fine," I said, quickly ending the call. Andrea was downstairs, and would be here, in my house, in minutes. I didn't have time to do my makeup or to put anything on. Sighing, I grabbed my robe and slipped on my Prada slippers before heading downstairs to meet her.

I turned on the hall light and disarmed the alarm system before unlocking the door and letting her inside. She was still wearing the Valentino gown, and for a moment, I forgot just how chic she looked this evening.

"I'm sorry to drag you away from your friends, Andrea," I said as she followed me into the kitchen. "Tea?"

Andrea nodded and took a seat at one of the counter stools. "It's no problem, I didn't know those people," she said.

"The ones you were in the taxi with?" I asked as I started the electric kettle.

"Yeah, they were coming out of a bar across the street from the Met when I left. And, you know how scarce cabs are in Manhattan on Friday nights, so we all just jumped in together," she said.

"Oh," I said, not quite understanding why someone would willingly share a ride with a stranger. "Thank you for what you did tonight," I said as I pulled two mugs from the cabinet and placed a teabag in each.

"Oh Miranda," she said, "you don't have to thank me. I was just doing my job, and…and… it was nothing."

"And what? What were you going to say?" I asked.

"I didn't ever want to see that expression on your face again, Miranda," she said quietly.

"Oh. That," I said, pouring the boiling water into the mugs and turning to face Andrea. "I don't think that will really be a problem anymore," I said. "When you get married, Andrea, don't ever settle for someone whom you're embarrassed to be seen with."

Andrea blushed and played with the teabag in her mug, not quite knowing how to respond. "I, uh, did you need anything with the girls tonight?" she asked, changing the subject.

"No, but thank you. They are with their father. I try to arrange that any time I have evening functions to attend, since I never know how long I will be gone."

"Oh, that's nice," she said. "Was Stephen okay and everything?" she asked, fidgeting with her mug.

"Yes. He was rather intoxicated. Roy helped me get him upstairs," I said.

"He didn't try to hurt you or anything, did he?" Andrea asked. She quickly blushed, "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

I waved it off. I was standing there in my robe with no makeup, but this was part of getting closer to her, wasn't it? "No, he did not hurt me. Luckily, he passed out the minute he hit the bed."

"Oh, good," she said, sipping at the hot tea. "My, uh, my boyfriend is sometimes demanding when he's drunk," she said.

My ears perked up. _She has a boyfriend? He's demanding?_ "Andrea, has he hurt you?" I asked, suddenly very concerned.

"No, no. It's just, if he has a lot to drink he expects certain things. It was only difficult when I tried resisting, but now I just make sure I'm not home or, well, or I drink enough so I don't care. I was just concerned that Stephen might be like Nate."

"My relationship with my husband is far from perfect, as you may have guessed, but he has never forced me to do anything. Just this evening he was trying to fool around in the backseat of the towncar, but I did not permit anything to happen. I like to think he at least respects me that much," I said.

"I used to think that Nate respected me, but since we moved in together, he's been kind of a different person."

"How long have you been seeing him?" I asked, though I really wanted to shout _Why are you still with him?_

"Honestly? I can't afford rent without a roommate," she said.

_And here, I thought I was the only woman foolish enough to hold onto a loveless relationship. _I pursed my lips. She was so young. It pained me to think of her being tied to her boyfriend over something so foolish as money. "Will you call me if he ever tries…or anything? I will have the police at your door in minutes."

Andrea smiled, truly smiled for the first time that evening. "Thank you," she said, gently resting her hand on mine, "but I think I'll be okay."

I stared down at my hand, covered by the young woman's elegant fingers.

"Oh, sorry," she said, quickly pulling her hand away.

I shrugged. I was so used to people reacting that way to me, I often wondered if there would ever be a way to tell them that a little human touch now and then was actually quite welcome. "Well, even if you ever need someone to talk to," I offered, "I'm certainly no relationship expert, but I do have considerable experience with assholes."

"Thanks," she said. "Same goes for you—I'm always here to listen if you need, or if, well, anything."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping herbal tea over the kitchen island. "I think I'm going into the office early tomorrow morning," I said. "Stephen is not going to be happy when he wakes up, and I really don't want to be here."

"Oh," she said, "uh, do you want me to wait here with you?"

Now it was my turn to smile. "No, but that's very sweet of you," I said. "I left him a post-it note on his nightstand, and he's going to flip." _And it would definitely be much better if you were far away from here_, I thought.

"What did it say?"

"I want a divorce."

"Really?" she asked. "Wow, that's…" she started giggling and lifted her hand to cover her face.

"That's what?" I asked. I did not appreciate being laughed at.

"Miranda, that's so _bitchy_," she said. "Sorry, but it is."

I could see that the effects of the champagne were settling in, so I decided not to hold it against the young woman. "Well, I kind of am a bitch, so he'll get over it," I said.

"You do realize the press will have a field day if they find out about that," she said.

"Andrea, you are not to repeat a word of our conversations to anyone, do you understand? You signed an NDA on your first day, and if you read it, you'll know it covers not just _Runway, _but all aspects of my life."

"Relax, I know. I would never ever say anything, but I mean, if he's going to be as angry as you said he will be, what's to keep him from telling someone?"

I sighed. She was right, but I would never admit it. "Well, it's getting late," I said, changing the subject.

"Yes, I'm sorry to have kept you up, you must be exhausted," Andrea said, digging in her purse for her phone.

"You know," I said, "you can—"

"No, I don't want to bother Roy," she said, interrupting me. I was going to say, _You can stay here tonight if you wish_. Mentally chastising myself, I knew it would only make matters worse if Stephen woke up and Andrea was sleeping in the study. "A cab is on its way," she said, heading towards the front door. "Thank you for the tea," she added.

"My pleasure, Andrea. And thank you again for what you did at the gala. I _do_ owe you one," I said with a smirk. "Goodnight," I added, leaning in for air kisses. I was actually quite surprised when I felt her arms around my shoulders.

"Oh! Sorry," she said, blushing. She pulled back and leaned in to do an air kiss but as I was turning my head, her lips brushed against my cheek. "Sorry!" she gasped.

"It's alright," I reassured her. "Andrea? Will you send me a note just to let you know you've arrived home safely?"

"Yes, _mom_," Andrea said, rolling her eyes. "See you Monday."

"See you Monday," I repeated as she stepped out the front door into the waiting cab. _Was I really mothering her? _I wondered. The things I imagined doing to her were far from appropriate if that was the case.

Turning out the lights and setting the alarm for the second time that night, I settled into bed and instantly began to fell asleep. _Buzzzzz_. My blackberry vibrated on the nightstand, waking me from my sleep. "Just got home. BF is asleep. Goodnight!" Smiling, I turned over and curled back into my pillow. "Goodnight, Andrea."

TBC


	4. Part 1 Chapter 4

Part 1, Chapter 4

The next few weeks at work were rough to say the least. Stephen had insisted we try to work things out, apologizing over and over for humiliating me in front of my colleagues. What could I say? That I simply didn't love him and preferred to be alone? It sounded so simple in my head, but when it came to uttering the actual words, I simply nodded and agreed to "work on it" with him, knowing that it would never, in fact, work out. I would never understand how I could fire orders and make decisions in a split second at _Runway_, but when I came home, I was often frozen.

Over the following weeks, my team prepared for Paris Fashion Week. Seven employees and myself would be representing _Runway._ This year, I asked Andrea to go in Emily's place. I meant no disrespect to Emily, but Andrea was better at reading and responding to me. She and I could often communicate without speaking, and she wasn't afraid to ask questions for clarification when necessary, which, I will admit, saves a lot of time. Plus, between all of the parties and brunches and quiet afternoons, it would be nice to have a friendly companion there who might dispel any loneliness on my part.

When I asked Andrea, she did not accept right away, claiming that it was the First Assistant's duty, and citing how much it meant to Emily. I've been wondering if there was more to it, as even today, two days before our trip, Andrea was on edge.

"Andrea?" I called. When she stepped into my office, I instructed her to close the door. "Is everything okay? You seem off. Nervous or something."

"Everything is fine, Miranda," she replied, "just some pre-flight jitters, I guess. Was there something you needed?"

I stared at her, watching her movements. She was skittish, and it seemed she had dropped a size in the weeks since the Met Gala. "No. That's all," I said, shaking my head. Something was going on, but with the pace everyone was working at, I wouldn't have the chance to talk to her until Paris, and even then it was doubtful.

Paris fashion week really went by in a blur—more so this year than previously. Andrea had been keeping her professional distance, ensuring everything went smoothly and successfully as planned. In short, she was exactly like my other employees. I couldn't suddenly expect her to read my mind and think that I might want her company because we had one real conversation one night after we had both been drinking. Actually, I thought it was rather sweet that she never mentioned the night of the gala again.

It was late afternoon on Friday, our last night. Tomorrow morning was the _Runway_ luncheon in honor of James Holt, and after that we would be headed home. We had a break this afternoon after the 2pm show, with dinner not scheduled until 7pm. Some of my staff were planning on attending a cocktail party in the hotel lobby at 5pm, but I thought I could take the opportunity to relax and take my time getting ready for the dinner, when I would be wearing a fantastic Lanvin gown that weighed over 40 pounds. I showered and prepped my face, deciding not to apply makeup until just before I would leave.

_Knock, knock, knock. "Madame? J'ai une lettre pour vous." _Sighing, I stood from the small stool in the dressing room and headed for the door. "Un moment!" I called, wondering why this letter was not left at the front desk with my other mail. When I opened the door, I was shocked to see a plainly dressed young man and not one of the hotel staff. "Miranda Priestly?" he asked. "Oui," I nodded. He handed me a large envelope and indicated where I needed to sign on his clipboard. "Merci," he said, running off down the hallway.

I closed the door and sat on the sofa, opening the envelope that had been sent via international overnight express mail. I gasped as the contents spilled out onto my lap. Cold, stark Times New Roman across the paper with which I was all too familiar: "Dissolution of Marriage: Tomlinson v. Priestly." As I read through the first few pages, I saw that Stephen had filed for a no-fault divorce, or, in other words, claiming irreconcilable differences. But still, what was so urgent that he felt the need to send these to me in Paris rather than waiting until I returned home? Or was he just trying to hurt me like I'd undoubtedly hurt him?

I picked up the phone and tried to call him, only to be directed to his voicemail. I didn't even know what time it was back home. Stuffing the papers back into the envelope, I threw it at the window, sinking back into the couch. He couldn't do this to me, not here, not now, not with the benefit tomorrow. I was the one who wanted the divorce a month ago, when his behavior had pushed me over the edge. He was the one who begged my forgiveness and wanted to work on our marriage. _What a joke, _I thought, _we had dinner three, maybe four times since then. _

But this, this was deliberate. I wanted the divorce on my own time so my lawyers would be able to handle it efficiently and keep it out of the press. But now, surely now those gossip rags had gotten hold of this news and were spinning stories every which way. I felt tears falling down my face, tears I didn't even know I had.

_Why was I so upset_? I wondered. I knew I didn't love Stephen, and it was clear that he could no longer accompany me to public events. On top of that, we weren't even having sex anymore, as I was locking my bedroom door most nights before he even got home. There was only one word that came into my mind as I sat on the couch, staring off into space: failure. Those papers were evidence of yet another one of Miranda Priestly's public failures.

I don't know how long I was sitting there, or even what I was thinking about for all that time, but I was jolted from my thoughts when Andrea stepped into the room and gasped. I hadn't even heard her enter the suite.

"We need to go over the seating…um, chart," I said, holding my hand out and looking down at my lap.

Andrea fumbled in her bag, finally producing the folder. I opened it, slipped my glasses on, and perused the sheet. "We need to move Snoop Dogg to my table," I said matter-of-factly.

"But your table's full," she said.

I tilted my head up, trying to keep my eyes down. "Stephen isn't coming," I said.

"Oh? So I don't need to fetch him from the airport?" she asked as she fumbled once again with a small notebook from her bag.

"Not unless he decides to rethink the divorce," I said, pulling my glasses off. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes, but did not want to cry in front of Andrea. She knew how I felt about my husband, and revealing anything more would make me seem too weak in front of her.

"Miranda, I'm so sorry," she said, slowly closing her notebook, sitting still for once. "I can cancel your evening if you'd like."

"No, don't do that," I choked out, my voice cracking as tears began to fall. I don't know how she got there, but two seconds later, Andrea was sitting next to me on the sofa, softly stroking the back of my hand. "Andrea," I choked out, "This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman and I can't handle my own emotions."

"It's okay," Andrea said reassuringly. "You know, everyone deals with things differently. It's okay," she repeated, softly stroking my back with her other hand. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to curl up against her chest, her long arms wrapping tightly around me. Sighing, I stood and walked over to the window. "Is there anything else I can do?" Andrea asked quietly from the sofa.

"Yes, your job," I said, nodding. Andrea understood, and quietly packed up her things and returned to her own room. As I finished preparing myself for the evening, I sighed, relaxing knowing Andrea would not be there to follow me around with that pitiful look in her eye. That look did not bode well for my ego.

The next morning, I met with Irv to discuss the new president of James Holt International. I know he was expecting me to nominate Nigel—and I did mention his name when this position was first tossed about. But I saw that Irv was pushing Jacqueline Follet in my face, that she was at his side all week. I introduced Jacqueline to James, and it became very clear that in order for me to keep my position at _Runway_, Jacqueline would need to accept the position at JHI, not Nigel..

The luncheon turned out to be a success, toasting to _Runway _and our partnership with James Holt. Everyone fawned over Jacqueline's new role, except perhaps Irv and Nigel, the latter of which was nowhere to be found.

I found Andrea and gestured for her to meet me in the car. We had one last show to make an appearance at before we would be able to catch our flight back to New York. In the backseat of the towncar, I could see that Andrea was again unnerved. I wanted to reach out and take her hand, but decided against it, given the state of agitation she was experiencing. "You've really impressed me," I said quietly to her, opting for words instead. "I see a great deal of myself in you, Andrea." I smiled, looking out the window. Everyone knew how rarely I gave compliments, and I presumed Andrea's silence was due to the shock of hearing the words coming from me.

"No, I don't think so," she said, her voice shaky. "I couldn't do what you did to Nigel, Miranda."

I focused my gaze out the window, knowing I would melt if I watched her plump red lips quivering. "Don't be silly," I said, "You already have. To Emily."

Realization sank in, and Andrea tried in vain to claim that what she did to Emily was different, but I didn't respond. I didn't intend to start this argument, I merely wanted Andrea to know that she had impressed me, and that I saw a lot of potential in her.

As the car pulled to a stop, I smiled, then stepped out. I learned long ago that putting on your camera face _before_ you open the door and exit the vehicle yielded fewer awkward, twisted photos. I began heading up the stairs swarming with photographers, and felt a hand guiding me through the crowd. After climbing several steps, I realized it was not Andrea's hand, but a gentleman's hand, a security guard it seemed. Turning around, I looked for Andrea in the sea of reporters, but could not find her. The guard urged me forward, and once I stepped inside, Andrea was no where to be found. I tried calling, but her phone went instantly to voicemail.

I was ushered to my seat in the front row, but could not focus on the runway at all, my eyes scanning the crowd for a glimpse of my chocolate-haired assistant. I kept trying her phone with no luck. Halfway through the show, I caught Christian's attention in the wings and blew him a kiss, making a mental note to send him a note explaining my departure. I had to get out, had to find the one who deserted me.

Climbing over my colleagues to reach the exit, I didn't care if I was making a scene. My heart was beating rapidly as horrid images floated through my mind—Andrea kidnapped, hit by a car, shot by a sniper. I was desperate to find her, regardless the reason she wasn't at my side. The two-mile ride in the towncar to the hotel took ages. The front desk informed me that the young American girl with red lips had just left the hotel. I hurried up to my room, piling my remaining belongings into the _Runway _trunk and directing the hotel staff to carry it out to the car.

The minute I shut the car door, I dialed Nigel's number and pleaded with my driver to drive as quickly as possible. _Where is Roy when you need him? _I thought.

"Well, hello, Miranda. I seriously debated answering your call," Nigel said.

"Listen, are you at the airport yet?" I urgently asked.

"We just pulled up. Why? What's wrong?" he said.

"Andrea. Is she with you? Have you seen her?"

"No, I thought she was with you," he said.

"Well, I can't find her. She didn't come to Christian's show, and the hotel said she was on her way to the airport," I said, trying to catch my breath. "Please keep an eye out for her, and tell the girls, too!" I said.

"Okay. If it's any consolation, I happen to know that our flight is the only one scheduled from Paris to New York in the next twenty-four hours, and the last flight out was early this morning," he said.

I took off my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course Nigel would know that, because he was trying to run from me, too. I sighed. "Nigel, I'm sorry, I tried to find you after the benefit," I said.

"Miranda—" he began.

"Take Andrea's seat," I said, cutting him off, "Sit in coach where you won't have to look at me for eight hours then!" I snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the seat next to me.

I rode the remaining twenty minutes to the airport in silence, suddenly missing the young woman's fidgeting. Once the car arrived, I rushed through Charles de Gaulle, quickly making my way to the gate. I joined Nigel, Jocelyn, and Serena, sitting one seat away from Nigel and placing my bag on the chair between.

Lucia came walking over. "Nigel, you were looking for Andy? She's in the bathroom," she said, pointing to the women's restroom in the terminal.

"Was she okay?" I asked, jumping from my seat and interrupting their conversation.

"Yes, I think so. I don't think she noticed me," Lucia said.

"I'll go get her," I said, hurrying off.

When I entered the bathroom, I saw her seated on a bench in a small sitting room off the main bathroom. She gasped as I sat next to her. "I'm sorry, Andrea," I said. I reached for her hand, which she reluctantly let me take in my own. "Whatever it was that I said, please don't look into it. I was merely trying to give you a compliment. I think you've been doing a remarkable job for us here at _Runway, _and I was trying to say that I see so much potential in you, that's all," I said, tears threatening to fall down my eyes.

"Bu—but, Nigel?" she asked, her big brown eyes looking up at me.

"Nigel is okay. I think he understands. Just between us, there is going to be an even better opportunity for him in New York with _Runway_."

"And you knew that? That's why you didn't give him the JHI position?"

"Andrea," I said, "The Holt position was not mine to ultimately decide. But even then, I would only wish a partnership with James on my worst enemy."

"I'm sorry I walked away this afternoon," Andrea said, squeezing my hand tightly.

"Water under the bridge, darling," I said as I stood up, dabbing my eyes with a tissue.

"Were—were you looking for me all this time?" she asked as I helped her with her handbag.

"Yes. I was," I said, leading her back to the gate. "Oh, and by the way," I said, leaning over and whispering into her ear, "you're switching seats with Nigel for the flight."

"Oh…um, okay I guess," she said.

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked, stopping shortly before we reached our group. "I just thought…well, no one else…I mean…Nigel has always been the only one to volunteer, and after this morning, even I couldn't do that to him." I had no idea why I was stumbling on my words, or worse, why I felt the need for the explanation in the first place. The brunette just had that effect on me.

"It's not a problem," she said.

_"Flight 2394 for New York, LaGuardia will now be boarding at Gate A18" _suddenly came the voice over the speakers. I turned to join the others, but Andrea stopped me, softly placing her hand on my forearm.

"Would you—do you—Miranda, I need to make a personal call before we get on the plane. I'm so sorry, but I will be there in five minutes," she said. I examined her. Yes, something was amiss. I initially thought it may have been due to the way she left me earlier, but it appears something else was going on in her life, maybe the demanding boyfriend Nate.

"Fine, just don't miss the flight," I said, running off with the others.

TBC


	5. Part 1 Chapter 5

Part 1, Chapter 5

As was my routine, I settled into my seat along the window in First Class and ordered a drink: Cointreau, neat. I never allowed my self any alcohol in-air, save the occasional celebratory champagne toast, and even then, it was just a sip. Despite all the flying my job demands of me, my body never has gotten used to it. Swollen feet, ear pressure, and a stiff neck were just some of the less-embarrassing maladies that plagued my trips. _Nigel is the only one who knows,_ I thought. He knows I wear compression stockings during every flight, even under pants if necessary. He knows how my ears pop and how I often struggle to get comfortable. _Nigel has been a very good friend_, I thought, _and I need to make it up to him before I lose him. _I handed my empty glass to the attendant, relaxing into the seat as I sent off a quick email to my daughters and their father before turning off my phone.

Andrea took her seat next to me silently, as I was still staring out the window. She fidgeted with her carry-on tote and her handbag, but somehow it was calming to me. If she didn't fidget, then I would be worried. "Was everything in order with your boyfriend?" I asked once she was settled.

"Oh," she said, "no—Nate?—_no. _I had to call my mother to check on something," she said. "Did you want to go over the notes from the shoots? I've already rewritten everything, and it's all organized and color coded by designer. I'll type it as soon as we get back to New York."

"Andrea, we are not working on anything during this flight," I said, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were puffy, her lower eye makeup dabbed away. _Did she look like that when I found her in the bathroom?_ I wondered. _No. Surely, I would have noticed if she'd been sobbing._ "Is everything alright?" I asked quietly, leaning forward while I tried to meet her gaze.

She nodded, turning her head to face the aisle. "I'm fine, thank you."

"If you need to talk about anything," I heard myself offering, "We do have eight hours," I said. Andrea turned to look at me as if I had two heads, confirming my suspicion. "Listen, I know I'm not known for my friendliness and warmth, but you have been kind towards me more than once. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," she said, "I do appreciate that, but I really don't want to talk about it right now."

"Of course," I said, pulling away and leaning towards the window once again. "Can you at least assure me that your boyfriend—Nate, was it?—has not hurt you?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "No, no, I'm fine. Nate moved out two days before we left New York."

I listened, deciding what to say next. For some reason, I didn't want our conversation to end. I was growing comfortable with the young woman—so much so it was beginning to scare me.

"He got a new job and moved to Boston. And, I think his new girlfriend followed him," she said, filling in the silence.

"Ah, I see," I said.

"Would you mind if I tried to sleep a little bit?" Andrea asked.

"Of course not, Andrea. I told you, you are not working. Why don't you have a drink, too? It might help you relax," I suggested.

"I don't really drink, Miranda, but thank you," she said.

I nodded. "Perhaps some tea," I said, trying to stall the conversation. For some reason, the thought of leaving the young woman to her own devices left me uneasy, even if she was rather confined to the seat next to me. Something was bothering her—something she wasn't telling me. I took a deep breath. I was not about to spend the next eight hours playing this guessing game. I reached over and picked up Andrea's hand, squeezing tightly. "Andrea, tell me why you were crying," I said.

She heard the change in tone of my voice and froze. "No, Miranda, it's fine, really. You have enough to think about," she said.

"For your information, Emily has already seen to it that Stephen's things were moved from the town house and into a storage facility, and the guest room is being redecorated as we speak. Leslie has given a full statement to any of the tabloids who might be trying to benefit from this, and the girls, well, James is with them, along with several private security guards. So," I said, taking another deep breath, "as you can see, I really don't have that much to think about."

Andrea cracked a smile. "You're not going to let me sleep until I tell you, are you?" she said. I raised my eyebrows, feigning innocence. "Now I just made it into a bigger deal than it really is," she said, "but my grandma has cancer and she's not going to last much longer."

"Andrea, I'm so sorry," I said, suddenly softening. I was not expecting anything so serious. "I had no idea," I said.

"You couldn't have. I didn't tell anyone," she said, fidgeting with _my hand_ in her lap as if it were a toy.

"Why keep it in?" I asked.

"Really? _You_ of all people are asking why I was keeping something private?"

"Point taken," I said. "But Andrea, that's not like you. And sometimes it really does help just to talk."

"I'm sick of everyone responding with their own stories of their grandparents, or saying 'it's going to be okay,' or asking how old she is, then saying, 'she lived a good life!'" she said. "I'm sorry, but it just sucks and nothing anyone is going to say will make me feel better."

I sat there, holding her hand, or rather, letting her hold mine. I wanted to hug her, but suddenly found myself extremely self-conscious, more worried about upsetting her with false comfort. "What can I do, darling?" I asked, gently brushing my thumb across the back of her hand.

She jerked her hand away. "Nothing. I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," she said, curling up in her seat. I nodded silently and turned my attention back to the endless clouds out the window.

Nearly an hour later, the flight attendant came by once again. I broke my own rule and ordered a cognac and asked the attendant to bring a pillow and blanket for Andrea. When she returned, I carefully draped the blanket over her and tucked the pillow next to her, not wanting to disturb her slumber.

Sighing, I realized Andrea was right. My grandmother had died when I was a child, but about five years ago when my own mother died, I didn't want to hear what anyone had to say about anything, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I couldn't even focus on work. The single thing I wanted most was for my mother to be healthy and vibrant again, though I knew deep down that was impossible.

So, I do know a little about what Andrea is going through, and, I know how frustrating it can be to hear others' stories when all you want to focus on is your own grief. Instead of attempting to offer her comfort or support, I let her sleep in peace.

Several hours later, I was rereading Grace Coddington's memoir on my Kindle when Andrea woke with a start. "Did you sleep okay?" I asked.

She didn't answer me, but unbuckled her seatbelt and practically ran to the lavatory. When she returned, I pretended I was immersed in my book, which I had stopped reading the moment Andrea awoke. I didn't want her to have the added stress of composing herself in front of me, so I watched out of the corner of my eye as she asked the attendant to bring her something. When she returned with a ginger ale and some wafers, I sighed, perhaps too audibly, as Andrea quickly turned to look.

"Miranda," she spoke, breaking the silence. "Thank you for being so kind to me, but you can go back to ignoring me now."

"Honestly, do you think me heartless and cruel, Andrea? I am a human being." I said. _Why was it so necessary for her to go above and beyond thanking me for basic, human emotion, then to imply that I made a habit of ignoring her?_ "Did you sleep well?" I asked again, trying not to dwell on myself.

"Yes, it helped," she said.

We sat in silence for several minutes, Andrea quietly nibbling on the wafers while I again feigned interest in my book. The truth was: I was far more interested in the young woman next to me, the stunning brunette who had stolen my attention months ago. "What are you thinking about, Andrea?" I asked.

"My grandma," she said, staring down at the can of ginger ale.

"Anything in particular?"

"I have to make it home to see her before she dies," she cried, awkwardly lifting her hands with the ginger ale and wafers up to cover her face.

"Here," I said, taking the can and small bag out of her hands. I set them on the small ledge in front of my seat and lifted up the console-style armrest between our seats. Unbuckling my seat belt, I scooted closer and wrapped my right arm around her shoulders.

Not surprisingly, she curled against me. My left hand was softly stroking her left forearm, my right clutching her right shoulder while she sobbed. "If I could get this plane home any faster, I would, Andrea." Just then I stopped. "Where does your grandma live?"

"She's…in New Jersey," she said between sniffles.

"Roy will be waiting at the airport when we arrive in New York," I said, thinking aloud, "so why don't you just run out to the car and have him drive you where you need to go. We can take care of your bags, and I can even have Emily messenger some fresh clothes over if you give me the address," I said.

Andrea pulled away and looked up, her deep brown eyes shimmering in tears. "Why would you do that for me?" she asked.

I paused, not knowing what to say. _Why was I so nice to Andrea? What was it about her? _I thought. _Did I ever figure that out?_ "Don't ask those questions," I said, "just be glad I am able to help in any little way."

For the rest of the flight, we sat with the armrest up, though I had moved back to my seat. Andrea composed herself, and was even able to tell me some stories about her grandma by the time we were approaching New York. Being so concerned for Andrea during the flight, I hardly noticed any of my usual complaints.

"Miranda? Will you do me a favor?" Andrea asked.

"I'll try, what do you need?"

"Can you make the flight attendant let me off first, and I don't know, clear a path for me or something?" she asked. "I don't think I can handle fighting my way through crowds."

I couldn't resist those big brown eyes. "Of course," I said. "Will there be anything else your highness?" I asked, as I pretended to lean forward and genuflect in front of her. "Would you like me to walk out to the car with you?"

Andrea smiled, "No, that's not necessary," she said. "But thank you. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you have a sense of humor. They would never believe it even if I tried."

I chuckled as I squeezed past Andrea to go speak with the attendant at the front of the airplane. Minutes later, we returned. "Andrea," I said, "this is Jill. She can escort you off the flight personally, and she has arranged for one of those motorized vehicles to quickly transport you from the gate to Roy's car."

Andrea smiled and shook Jill's hand. "If you don't mind, it will be much easier for us to get out if we're sitting next to the door during landing. There is storage space for your bags, too," she said, gesturing for Andrea to follow her.

"Uh, okay," she said, fumbling to toss her items into her bag and quickly retrieve her tote from the overhead bin. "Umm," she said, looking at me.

"Go!" I said, chuckling. "Call or text me when you can, okay?"

Andrea nodded and headed off with Jill as the plane began to descend into New York City.

I didn't see Andrea again that day. She was, indeed, whisked off the plane so quickly even I couldn't follow where she went. The moment I turned my phone back on, I texted Roy to take Andrea and send another car for me. As everyone was standing, waiting to disembark, I caught sight of Nigel who seemed to be wondering where Andrea was. That was one thing—I wasn't sure whether she wanted anyone else to know. I quickly texted Nigel "personal crisis" and he seemed to buy that. Now, I had to put on my face for the cameras, knowing there would surely be paparazzi waiting for me, hoping to ride on the news of my impending divorce.

TBC


	6. Pt 2 - As long as you know in your heart

Part Two: As long as you know in your heart...

Chapter 1

I sighed as I sank into the couch in the den. The driver had been kind enough to carry my bags upstairs for me, while our trunks were being delivered straight to _Runway. _Caroline and Cassidy were still at their father's. During the ride home from the airport, I called James and we decided it was probably best if they stay there for the next week or so. So far, the press had left them alone, so I didn't want to cause any additional chaos if I could avoid it.

I kicked off my shoes and softly massaged the ball of my foot. My Prada pumps were the only truly comfortable heels I owned, but after twelve hours, my feet began to ache in them, too. I heard my blackberry ding with a new message. _Andrea_, I thought.

I dug through my handbag and sighed when I saw it was a text message from Cassidy: "Dad said you called while we were gone. Miss you. Love C&C" Sighing, I tried to force thoughts of the young brunette out of my mind, but even in traffic, she would have made it to her grandmother's home outside Newark before we were able to collect our luggage, go through customs, and leave the airport.

Knowing I would not be able to rest until I heard from the intriguing young woman, I sent a quick message: "Hi, just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you." In an attempt to distract myself, I made a cup of tea and headed upstairs to begin sorting through what little laundry didn't get thrown haphazardly into the _Runway _trunk when I was leaving.

When I came back downstairs, there was a new message: "Thank you, Miranda. 3 You have been incredibly kind."

"I hope you can find time to rest. If I wasn't clear, you have the next few days off—as long as you need," I wrote back.

Seconds later, she replied: "I don't think I will need too many, but thank you."

We didn't text anymore that day. As natural as it felt to converse with Andrea, and as much as I wanted to know how things were, how she was doing, I did not wish to take away from her time with her grandma and her family. I did, however, find myself wondering if they held her hand the way I did, or if she cried to them like she did to me.

Sunday morning, I woke up with an unbearable migraine. Barely able to reach over for my blackberry, I typed out an email to Emily that I would not be in. I told her we needed to unpack the trunks, but if she could find time on Monday, she could have the day off as well as the rest of the team. Pulling my pillow over my head to block out the light, I didn't even look to see if she responded. Five minutes later, the phone started beeping. "Nigel, what do you want?" I hissed.

"Miranda," he said, "Is it true? A day off? What's gotten into you?"

"Migraine," I said, trying to focus my breathing.

"What was with Andy leaving?" he asked.

"I do not have the energy for this discussion," I said. "It's personal, leave her be."

Nigel said something else—I'll admit I wasn't entirely paying attention—and I promptly ended the call. Knowing a headache like this wouldn't retreat on its own, I crawled out of bed and fumbled in the medicine cabinet for some pills. I made my way back to bed without opening my eyes, throwing myself back on the mattress.

I don't know if it was five hours or five minutes later, but I woke at the sound of my phone. "Nigel, will you please—"

"Miranda?"

"Andrea," I breathed, opening my eyes. I licked my lips and swallowed before continuing. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Nigel calling."

"It's okay," she said. "Did you see my email?"

"No, not yet. I've been…in the middle of something. Is everything okay?" I asked, fearing the words that would come out of Andrea's mouth, and for some reason hiding my own excruciating pain.

"No, it's not okay," she said. I could hear her voice trembling, and somehow, I could picture her sliding down the wall into a sitting position on the floor. "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't bother you with this."

"Nonsense. I'm sitting here at home, staring at the ceiling. Please, go on," I said, reassuring her that she was not interrupting anything.

"Well, everyone…they're fighting. Yelling at each other, arguing about who knew her the best."

"Oh sweetheart," I said, sighing as my heart broke, listening to her story, "I wish I was there for you."

"It helps just knowing you'll answer the phone," she said.

"Of course. I'm sorry I didn't see your email."

"It's okay. Do you have a few minutes now?"

"Yes, yes," I said.

"So, this morning," she began, "Gram started having trouble breathing. My mom called it 'the death rattle,' and said she's heard it before in other patients she has taken care of. So my aunt did what the Hospice people told her to do, and gave her some morphine. This went on for about two hours, with my aunt sitting next to her, spoon-feeding her more and more morphine. After a while, we were all standing around her bed, just kind of watching her struggle to breathe, waiting for the moment when she wouldn't take another breath. I was opposite my aunt, and my hands were on her right elbow. I was barely touching her, but her skin was so puffy, even the slight touch of my fingertips was leaving a deep impression. Mom said that was common when people died. It was silent. We were all counting in our heads how many seconds between her breaths. My grandpa walked in the room, smacking his gums on a piece of cantaloupe. He said, 'Still breathing, huh?' and I thought my uncle was going to punch him right then and there. My uncle's wife quickly ushered my grandpa out of the room. I had my eyes closed, and I was just praying to whoever was listening that they take care of my grandma and make it so she didn't have to suffer any longer. A few minutes later, my uncle was frantically putting a stethoscope to her chest, saying the heartbeat was still there, it was really weak, but still there. My mom listened and threw the stethoscope back at him. 'You're just hearing your pulse in your ear,' she said. My aunt started crying. I hadn't moved. My mom slowly pulled my hands away from her body and led me out of the room. It was so quiet, I didn't even realize the exact moment when she died. I guess I thought it would be more profound or something." She paused, and I wasn't sure if she was crying or thinking.

"Andrea, I'm so sorry for everything you've been through today, and I wish I could be more supportive," I said. I paused, waiting for her to respond, but she didn't. "Did you say your family was arguing about something now?" I asked, trying to bring her out of her thoughts.

"Oh…yeah. My grandma wanted to be cremated. We all knew that, or at least my mom, my dad, and I did. We saw her the most. She practically raised me while my parents worked. But my grandparents made my uncle the executor of their wills, and he also has power of attorney. I guess because my uncle is an accountant, she just figured he would be the best person for that. Well, my uncle has three kids of his own, works crazy hours, coaches football, and sees my grandparents maybe once a month for a few hours. So my mom called the funeral home, and when my grandpa overheard her say "cremation" he flipped. He started screaming 'You can't burn her! It's a sin!' and crying and getting all emotional. Then my uncle takes his side and says that Gram never wanted that, that my mom was making it up. Hence the fighting and screaming and yelling. I had to come sit outside, there were just too many people in that tiny house."

"Do you think they'll come to a resolution on this?" I asked.

"I mean," she chuckled, "they have to at some point."

"True. You must be exhausted," I said. "Can I send some clean clothes or anything? You never sent your address."

"I'm fine. My aunt and I are actually going to back to my apartment later tonight. It's just thirty minutes away, and I think she wants to get away, too," she said.

"Okay. If there's anything at all," I said, letting my voice trail off.

"Thank you, Miranda. I really appreciate you even answering my calls," she said.

"Of course," I said. "I should get back to work," I lied, "but call me if anything else comes up."

"Okay. Thank you again," she said, hanging up the phone.

I turned over onto my side and felt the pressure begin to flow through my head once again. Flopping back down on my back, I closed my eyes, letting tears stream down the sides of my head. Andrea was what, twenty-three years old? I could just tell by the way she spoke of her family that she was very strong at home. Not physically, but emotionally. She was a rock for her family, a decision-maker, a rational thinker, a _doer_. She was—I sighed—like me.

Before I fell back asleep, I called Smith & Wollensky and ordered a simple dinner for twelve people—roast chicken, roasted potatoes, green beans, and fresh fruit—to be ready for pickup in one hour. I texted Roy and asked him to pick up the food and deliver it to the same address he left Andrea yesterday. It wasn't much, but food was always appreciated when there was unexpected company.

I stayed in bed all day Sunday, half recovering from my migraine, half from the time change. It never used to affect me, this "jet lag" everyone speaks about, but in the past few years, I have realized that my body is not as resilient as it once was, and even minor disruptions to my daily routine leave me exhausted. I took two painkillers before falling asleep Sunday night, and when my alarm went off at 5:05AM Monday morning, I felt significantly better. I had not heard from Andrea since early Sunday afternoon.

When he picked me up in the morning, Roy informed me that he delivered the food exactly as I had asked. _I wonder why she hasn't called to thank me—not that I require thanks, but it just seems like something she would do, _I thought to myself. Taking a deep breath, I knew I needed to keep my head on today as there would be a lot to catch up on at _Runway_.

At 11:30AM, I shut my office door to enjoy my lunch in quiet. The truth was, I was hoping to speak with Andrea. I sent her a quick message before sitting down in my desk chair: "How is today going? Not the same here in the office without you."

She quickly typed a lengthy reply: "I can surely agree that things would be very different here if you were here. Mom and sibs went to meet with funeral director, but they were fighting so much, he asked them to leave and come back when they've figured it out. I hate when people are afraid to make a decision."

"I completely agree. I'm sorry it's all being dragged out," I wrote.

"BTW, did you send food last night by any chance?" she wrote.

"Yes, was it okay?" I asked.

"Apparently delicious. My sister and I had already left, but they all devoured it, not even bothering to see who sent it. I'm sorry for their poor manners."

"Don't worry about manners right now. Glad it was enjoyed. Is there anything I can do for YOU?" I asked.

She did not reply right away. As I chewed my steak, I worried I had crossed some invisible line, stepping too far with that last question. Then, she responded: "If it's not too big of a deal, do you think I can take off until Wednesday or Thursday? The funeral service will be Wednesday afternoon."

"Sweetheart, do what you need to do. Your job will be here when you return, and I know you've more than put your share of overtime in. Don't worry about work—I look forward to seeing you whenever you return."

"Thank you," she replied.

TBC


	7. Part 2 Chapter 2

Part 2, Chapter 2

Over the next two days, I did not communicate with Andrea. By this point, I knew she felt comfortable sending me a note if she wanted to talk, despite how much I missed what had become our daily conversations.

Wednesday evening, I was sitting in the den going through the book when the doorbell rang. It was dark outside, the girls were still staying with James, and I wasn't expecting company. Peering through the peephole, I gasped, quickly unlocking and opening the door. "Oh, sweetheart," I said, tugging her inside and shutting the door behind her.

"Hi," she said. She just stood there, her shoulders slightly slumped. I grabbed her forearms and felt a slight tremor in her body as I looked her in the eye, her deep brown eyes almost translucent and not quite present.

I quickly slipped my arms underneath hers and hugged her tightly, fearing she would collapse at any moment. Her body felt like a weighted skeleton in my arms. Somehow, I hadn't realized just how much weight she had lost. The mother in me wished I could make everything better for her just by holding her close, but I knew such hopes were unrealistic. When I pulled away, I took her hands in mine. "Your eyes," I said, squeezing her hands, "I can see your exhaustion. You poor thing. Come inside."

Andrea said nothing, but let me lead her into the den. I wanted to make her some tea, but I didn't want to leave her alone. Finally, I led her to the sofa. The tea could wait. She sat down in the center of the sofa, not leaning back, just sitting up and looking down at her hands. I took my seat in the corner of the couch and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. She laid her head on my lap and I began rubbing my hand up and down her left arm while I brushed the hair out of her face with my other.

"My mom is a different person," she said, out of the blue. "She took my grandma's illness really hard, and now it's like she is trying to take Gram's place in the family. She's worrying about her sister and brother, and she even took time off work so she can stay with my grandpa for a while," Andrea said.

"I imagine this is hard since your mom was so close with her mother," I said. I fought the urge to preach to her—trying to show her I was simply willing to listen.

"Yeah, she was. But now, it's like I've lost my grandma _and_ my mom in the same week," she said, crying.

"Sweetie, I am so so sorry. You know, everyone grieves differently, so maybe your mom just needs some time," I said as I continued to run my fingers through her hair.

I don't know how long we sat there in silence like that, but I soon realized Andrea's breathing had calmed and she was probably asleep. I didn't want to wake her, but it was already past midnight, and I needed to sleep myself. "Andrea?" I whispered.

"I'm awake," she said.

"Can I get you something?" I asked, not really knowing what to say, afraid that if I pushed too hard she would leave. "Something to eat? Tea? Something stronger?"

Andrea shook her head. "I should get going," she said, sitting up from my lap.

"Stay here tonight," I blurted out, surprising myself.

Andrea paused for a moment. _She was actually considering it_, I thought. "No, I should head back," she said.

"You are certainly not taking a taxi at this hour," I said, "I'm calling Roy."

"No, don't bother him, Miranda. I'll be fine, really," she protested.

"Either you stay here or Roy drives you home," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

"You're horrible," she said. "But I guess since I'm staying here, I'll have that drink if you're still offering."

"Scotch okay?"

"Sure," she said.

I placed three large ice cubes in a glass before pouring two fingers of scotch for the young woman. I poured myself a few drops, because really, no one likes to drink alone. Handing her the drink, I asked, "Have you eaten today?"

She shook her head as she brought the glass to her lips.

"I can make you something now, or you are more than welcome to help yourself to anything. We even have things like Pop-Tarts and Cheetos. I would just feel better if you ate _something_," I said.

"No, thank you," Andrea said, quickly finishing her drink. "Do you have a blanket I can use?" she asked.

I looked at her, my eyebrow arched in question. "Why would you need a blanket? It does not get that cold at night in here," I said.

"I just like to cover up with something—it's more comfortable," she said.

"Oh! You didn't think you're sleeping on this couch, did you?" I asked. She shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "Sweetheart, you're sleeping upstairs. There are plenty of beds. Come along," I said, gesturing for her to follow me.

Upstairs, before I realized it, I was leading her into my bedroom. I opened the dresser and pulled out two soft cotton nightshirts, handing her the pink one while I took the black. "Help yourself to anything," I said, gesturing towards the bathroom. "We need to leave the house between 7:30 and 7:45AM, so whatever time you need to get up, just set the alarm."

"Oh wait, Miranda, I need to go back to my apartment in the morning. I didn't bring clothes or anything," she said.

"Nonsense. I'm sure I have plenty of items that will fit you, and if not, you can grab something from the closet when you get in, okay?"

She nodded, and stood there in the middle of the room, unmoving. "Miranda, thank you again—"

I held up my hand and interrupted her. "You do not need to thank me. Just get some rest and I will see you in the morning," I said. I stepped out of the room and shut the door nearly all the way, just not latching it. Walking across the hallway, I entered the guest bedroom, taking in the impromptu redecorating for the first time. _Emily has really outdone herself, _I thought as I inspected the room. The walls were painted a pale sea blue and everything had been replaced by white woodwork, white closet doors, and a white bed and dressers. The room had a beach house feel to it, straight out of a Land's End catalog, and more importantly, it was the exact opposite of the way it was when Stephen was here.

On the nightstand was a small note card: _The NYC Women's Shelter thanks you for your donation of mattress . _The word "mattress" had been handwritten by someone—not Emily—presumably from the shelter. I smiled. Emily even got rid of the mattress. I quickly washed my face and removed my makeup, slipping into my nightshirt and climbing between the covers of the bed. It wasn't my bed, but it wasn't anyone else's either. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

On the other side of the hallway, Andrea quickly washed her face and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash before slipping into the nightshirt and crawling between the covers. She sighed, sinking into the luxurious sheets that smelled like a mix of lavender and…Miranda. She sat up in bed and peered around the room in the darkness. _Was this Miranda's bedroom? _she wondered. Sinking back into the mattress, she pulled one of the down pillows closer to her body, completely surrounding herself in the intoxicating scent as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, she woke and couldn't fall back asleep. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, she went to flip the pillow over and saw a silk neglige gently folded underneath. She couldn't help but bring it to her face, inhaling the divine scent. "Mmm," she murmured. Just then, she was reminded of another smell, not terribly unlike Miranda's: her grandmother's.

Tears began flowing down her cheeks as she realized she would never again smell her grandmother, and all those childhood memories tied so strongly to that scent were somehow started crying a bit louder as sobs took over her body.

I have always been a light sleeper, so the moment Andrea began crying, I woke. I waited several minutes, but as her sobs only grew worse, I crept out of bed and gently pushed the bedroom door open. She didn't seem to notice me standing there as I watched her, my red silk neglige wrapped around her hands, partially covering her face. I stepped closer to the bed and placed my hand softly on her shoulder. She gasped and looked over, but then laid her head back on the pillow when she saw it was me. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the covers and crawled in behind her, draping my arm over her tiny body as I held her close.

"When I have kids," she said between sobs, "they won't know what Gram smelled like. I'll have no way to tell them how comforting their great-grandmother's hugs were, or anything," she cried. I softly pressed kisses to the nape of her neck.

"There, there," I said, "you're safe here." I wasn't trying to get her to stop crying, as I know all too well that tears were a necessary part of life. From my own experience, I knew how comforting something as simple as physical contact could feel.

TBC


	8. Part 2 Chapter 3

Part 2, Chapter 3

I woke at 6:20AM when the alarm went off, my arms still wrapped around the young brunette. I quickly disentangled myself and turned off the alarm. Andrea stirred, sitting up, resting on her elbows. "I'm going to take a quick shower. Give me twenty minutes, then you can get ready," I said. She grunted and sank back into the covers. Smiling, I stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and began my morning routine. As I showered, the sight of Andrea laying in the middle of my bed with my red neglige draped across her shoulder stirred emotions I knew I needed to keep at bay. Once I began drying my hair, I caught myself daydreaming, watching the way my fingers held the round brush, imagining Andrea's long fingers running through my hair. I quickly applied my makeup, chastising myself for even considering the girl in such a way, at a time when she was so vulnerable. I quickly pulled out my Origins GinZing eye cream and left it on the counter in plain sight, anticipating her puffy eyes.

I stepped out of the bathroom exactly seventeen minutes later, wrapping my short silk robe around me before heading into my closet. I slipped on my nude shaper nylons, a simple navy pencil skirt, and a crisp white blouse, grabbing a wide belt and a pair of Tory Burch pumps to accessorize. I pulled out two pairs of black pants, two white blouses, a cardigan, a sweater vest, and a wrap dress. _She should have no problem finding something within these items, _I thought, _at least I hope she can find something—these are the smallest pants I have here in the house, and the girls' would be too short on her_. I also dug in the back of my drawer to find some brand new underwear and tights as well.

"Andrea," I called softly, "the shower is all yours. We're leaving in 45 minutes," I said. When she didn't move, I continued. "Darling," I urged, opening the shade and letting the morning sunlight pour into the room, "if you're coming to work this morning, you need to get up now." She groaned and sat up, moving over to the edge of the bed. I rested my hand on her shoulder and asked, "How are you feeling today? You know, you can take a few more days off if you need to."

"I'm fine," she said. "I think I need to go back to work and focus on something else, but thank you."

"Of course," I said, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything. We're leaving in 45 minutes."

She nodded and I stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind me. I heard the shower turn on and that somehow relaxed me. I made two cups of coffee, pouring hers into a travel mug but leaving it cool off a bit before placing the lid on. I doubt she likes her coffee as searing hot as I do. I retrieved the morning papers from my entryway and sat at the table, thumbing through _The Wall Street Journal_.

Promptly at 7:30, Andrea came downstairs. She was wearing the black Louis Vuitton custom tailored straight-leg pants with a white blouse. The pants, which I hardly wore anymore because they were so tight on me, were actually loose on Andrea. I saw that she found a belt in the closet and was using it to hold them up. "I had to find—" she said, gesturing to the belt.

I quickly waved it off. Of course, I didn't care if she wore my Prada belt, but I did care about why she needed the belt. Sighing, I did not want to have this conversation with her right now. I handed her a travel mug of coffee. "Do you need anything else or are we ready?" I asked.

"I'm ready, thanks," she replied, taking the coffee. She wore her hair pulled back in a bun today. I could see she used my makeup—tinted moisturizer, a hint of bronzer, liquid eyeliner, DiorShow mascara, and Lancome Red Haute lipstick. It was a good look on her and I was quite impressed with her skill. Months ago, I don't think she knew what eyeliner was.

I walked over to the coat closet in the hallway and selected a Michael Kors zebra-patterned trench for myself, handing Andrea my tan Burberry hooded trench. "Oh, I don't need a coat," she said.

"Weather forecast says rain," I said. "Just wear it, make me happy," I said.

She nodded and took the coat from me, slipping it on and belting it tightly at the waist. I picked up my bag and grabbed the Book from the table then turned to head out the door, Andrea following me. Out front, Roy greeted us warmly, and I could tell he was happy to see Andrea.

We rode to _Runway _in silence. Andrea was scrolling through emails, while I was going over the last few pages of the Book I didn't finish last night before she came over. Just before we approached Elias-Clarke, I shut the Book and turned to her, placing my hand softly on her knee. "Andrea," I said, "if you need anything today, don't be afraid to ask. It's your first day back and I know it can be overwhelming with everyone asking questions. If you need to be alone or anything, remember I have the bathroom off my office. If you need time, take it, I just ask that you send me a text or something so I'm not worrying about you."

Andrea nodded. "Yo—you would _worry_ about me?" she asked. "My mom doesn't even worry about me."

"Of course I would" I said, "and I'm sure your mother loves you very much, just give her some time," I reassured. "Ready?" I asked as the towncar came to a stop. She nodded, and I stepped out of the car. I felt Andrea at my heels as we walked into the building. I stepped into the elevator and spun around, surprised when I saw Andrea stop in place, not entering the car. "Get in," I said, stepping to the side to make room for her. About halfway up the elevator, I said quietly, "You should probably pull your notebook and pen out."

"Oh, shit! Right, sorry," she said. I smirked. Somehow, the way she dug through her bag, clearly flustered, gave me a sigh of relief. _This _was the Andrea I knew and loved. She was bright, energetic, chipper, and sometimes a little clueless. It was endearing, watching her pull out a notebook and try several pens before she found one that writes, buried in the bag that also carried her dirty laundry from the night before.

"Okay, ready!" she said just before the elevator doors open.

Without missing a beat, I stepped out of the elevator and let the words roll off my tongue. "Andrea, call Patrick and see if Victor is still interested in that summer apprenticeship. Tell Nigel I need three new options for the spread on page one hundred two. See if Lucia has been able to secure the interview with Thierry for next month, and if so, make sure we have samples from his showroom before the 2pm run-through. If not, I will personally make a visit to his showroom and try to sway their opinions myself. Speaking of the run-through, let's do that at 1:30 right after lunch. Order two large sprays for Caroline and Cassidy's piano recital tonight—daisies, bluebells, daffodils, tulips, maybe a few sunflowers. No roses, carnations, or freesias. Bring me the cards—I want to personally sign them. Order some french toast, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, and orange juice for breakfast, which I'd like sometime before 9. Lunch will be the usual at 12:30, but make it medium this time. I'll have my latte before the run-through."

By the time I finished, I had already deposited my coat and bag on Emily's desk, and I was seated at my own desk. Andrea quickly slipped out, removing her coat and hanging it up in the closet as she began the tasks I had given her.

"Is that…Miranda's coat?" Emily asked in disbelief.

"No," Andrea replied.

"Bu—but where did you—?"

"Paris."

"Oh," she snuffed. "I see they didn't grace you with any new shoes," she said condescendingly, glaring down at Andrea's scuffed Jimmy Choos.

"Em, can you order Miranda's breakfast? Eggs, turkey bacon, french toast, and orange juice," she said. Emily pursed her lips, then quickly called in the order to the cafe across the street.

As I tried to focus on the papers in front of me, I found that I couldn't help but listen to Andrea's conversations. _Perhaps I should have been more careful, _I thought, _I should have known my staff would recognize the custom jacket that had been a gift from Christopher Bailey himself. _My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Nigel at Andrea's desk.

"So, Six, what's with the personal days? Did you run off and elope without telling your dear friend Nigel?" he said. I bit my tongue, waiting for Andrea's response.

"No, definitely not. You know I would tell you the minute—well, if I were going to be married. I can't keep that from my maid of honor," she teased.

"Wait, stand up," he said, leaning back and taking in her appearance. "It looks like you've dropped a size. Swing by the closet before you leave and we'll pull some new items for you."

"Okay, thanks Nige," she said.

"So you never answered—where were you if you weren't getting hitched?" he asked.

"Nigel," I called, hearing enough of his pestering. "This spread on rockstuds, do you have any other ideas?" Nigel stepped into my office and shut the door behind him.

"Okay, what's going on?" he asked. "I already sent you the three options we're putting together and scheduled that meeting for 2:45 today. _Why_ is Andrea wearing your custom Vuitton pants?"

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I took my glasses off and pinched the bridge of my nose. "She's going through a lot right now," I said.

"Okay, but you don't usually go giving your custom designed items to your staff. Not to mention those are tiny pants and she needed a belt with them," he said.

"Yes, I know," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't worn those to the office since before I was pregnant," I said.

"So you just decided to give her three days off and your $3,000 pair of pants?"

I sighed again. I knew creating a lie would only make the situation worse for Andrea, but I also knew Nigel was relentless. My blackberry buzzed and I quickly glanced down, seeing a message from Andrea pop-up at just the right time: "Please tell Nigel about my grandma. I can't talk about it. Running out to get breakfast now."

"Sit down," I said to Nigel. "Andrea's grandmother died on Sunday. She was very anxious the last day in Paris because she had called home and her mother told her that she had taken a turn for the worst; she was afraid she wouldn't make it home in time to see her," I explained.

"So that's why you had her rushed off the plane in New York," Nigel said. "But it still doesn't explain the pants."

"She showed up at my doorstep last night, Nigel," I said, standing up and walking over to the window. "She was broken," I said.

"Well, well, the dragon lady shows her heart," Nigel teased. I glared at him. "No, seriously, Miranda, I'm glad you were there for her. Kind of shocked that she chose you over someone like me, but still."

"Oh, get over yourself," I teased, quickly remembering that he and I still hadn't discussed what happened in Paris. "Nigel," I said, "Andrea just texted me and asked me to tell you because she said she's not ready to talk about it, so don't pester her, and don't give her that pitiful expression."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"And Nigel, I do still want to chat with you—maybe a quick drink this evening?" I said.

"Yeah, I'll let you know," he said, walking out of my office. Seconds after he left, Andrea returned, rushing into the kitchen to plate the breakfast food. She carried in a tray, and I directed her to set it on the small round table near the window.

"Will there be anything else?" she asked.

"Yes, shut the door, you're eating with me," I said quietly, so Emily would not overhear. We quickly exchanged looks, and Andrea knew better than to argue with me. She quietly shut the door and joined me at the small table.

"Miranda, thank you, but I don't think I'm hungry," she said.

"Humor me," I said as I handed her the fork, "this is twice what I typically eat, so please help yourself. And the juice is yours."

I picked up a piece of bacon and began to nibble on it. I wasn't quite sure how she felt about sharing a fork. "So, you never told me how the service went yesterday." I didn't want to keep her from eating, but I also didn't want her to think I was simply staring at her.

"Oh, well, it was nice," she said, eating some eggs off the plate. "My dad's brother didn't recognize me, and came up to me and said 'I'm sorry about Eleanor' when everyone else was saying 'I'm sorry about your grandma,'" she said. I bit my lip, holding in my laughter. "No, it's okay," she said, taking a bite of french toast, "you can laugh, it was ridiculous."

I chuckled as I sipped my water. "Was she cremated?"

"Yes, although my uncle and grandpa were still very much against it in the end, they decided they couldn't afford to pay the funeral home to keep her body preserved for weeks on end while they argued."

"Oh my," I said. "So did someone from your family speak at the service?"

"Ha," she said, laughing and rolling her eyes. "I was making up the Mass programs on Tuesday night, and my mom told me that we were going to have the priest give the eulogy. I asked if I could do it, but she told me no, that it was inappropriate for a grandchild to speak instead of a son or daughter. So, I made the program, but then when we got there, my aunt stood up and went to read her speech, and then after that, my uncle got up to read his speech, both painting very different pictures of my grandma."

"Are you serious?" I asked. "That was incredibly rude. And I'm sorry they wouldn't let you speak," I said.

"Yeah. It's okay. I know that my grandma knew how much I loved her, and I know that most of the people in that room knew how much she adored me, too. I didn't need my name in the program to make it official," she said.

"Andrea, that's very mature of you. And you're right, as long as you know in your heart, the words are just…"

"Unnecessary," she said, finishing my thought. She reached up and gently squeezed my hand. "Thank you for breakfast," she said.

"Of course," I replied, still surprised at the way in which she finished my thought. "Did you have enough?" I asked, looking down at the plate. She had finished the eggs and juice and eaten one piece of french toast.

"Yes, thank you," she said, standing up. "Are you finished or would you like me to leave this?"

"I'm still picking at it," I said. She nodded, then quietly let herself out of my office. _As long as you know in your heart, the words are just…unnecessary_. The thought played over and over in my mind. Of course, we were speaking of her grandmother, but was I not thinking of myself, too? Of Andrea? The unspoken kindnesses that had been going on between us since the night of the Met Gala? I closed my eyes, trying to quell the emotions raging within me. I could not allow myself to think that Andrea felt anything similar to what I feel for her, not now, not when her world was crumbling. _It was only a coincidence_, I reminded myself, _you were looking into it too much. _

I reached down and picked up the fork, cutting a small piece of french toast and bringing it to my mouth. My lips lingered on the tines of the fork, trying to imagine how she tasted—certainly not like cinnamon and syrup. Just then, the phone buzzed, jolting me from my daydream. I walked over to my desk and pressed the intercom, "Yes?"

"Miranda, I have Patrick," Andrea said.

"Put him through," I said, abandoning the fork and slipping back into work-mode.

TBC


	9. Part 2 Chapter 4

Part 2, Chapter 4

As the day pressed on, I sent Andrea a quick text message: "When you bring my lunch, don't forget two sets of silverware and a beverage for yourself." Andrea didn't respond, but promptly at 12:30 she entered my office and shut the door behind her, joining me at the table. "How are things going today?" I asked as I cut the steak in two.

"Fine. How about you?" she asked.

"Good. Did you know Patrick's son Victor is a budding fashion photographer? He sent over some of his work and asked if I would be willing to offer him an unpaid apprenticeship this summer," I said as I chewed a piece of steak. "Patrick is worried that he doesn't have a realistic view of the day-to-day work a young photographer does since he's so familiar with his father's schedule and high-profile shoots."

"Oh wow, that's impressive," Andrea said.

"Yes, Patrick has always been down-to-earth about things like that. But I guess when you're on that side of the camera, it's easier to live in the shadows," I said.

"Do you ever wish that—that you lived in the shadows?" Andrea asked me.

I pushed away from the table and set my fork down, certainly not anticipating the direction this casual lunch conversation was taking. "Of course there are times," I said. "When I look back at the string of failed marriages and when I hear the way my daughters speak about me…of course I wish that. Why are you asking me this?""

"Do you ever regret your decisions?" she asked, ignoring my question. I couldn't figure out why she was pressing me so hard, but I, for some reason, felt that I was required to answer her.

"Sometimes…it is difficult to see the impact each decision has on the large scale, and though I try to keep a broad outlook, I can't help but wonder," I said.

"Wonder what?"

"If I should have ever gotten married—to any of my ex-husbands. Or if I should have decided not to have children," I said, my voice trailing off as I stood and walked to the window, lost in my thoughts.

"Tell me more about your daughters," Andrea said, the voice coming from inches away. I was so lost, I didn't even feel her stand behind me. She put her hands on my shoulders, softly massaging my tense muscles. I clasped my right hand over hers on my left shoulder and pressed my cheek to the back of my hand, closing my eyes for a moment.

Sighing, I turned around, keeping our hands linked. "Andrea, I do not want to burden you with my emotional issues. You have enough to think about with your own family," I said. I squeezed her hands and returned to the table.

"But Miranda," she said, "Don't you see, I don't want to think about my family any more. They exhaust me. I need to find something else to worry about."

"Well," I said, taking another bite of steak, "now is certainly not the time to delve into my psyche."

"Okay," she said, slinking back into her seat, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" I asked.

"For, I don't know, thinking that we could be friends and just talk," she said with a shrug as she set down her fork and stood from the table. "I actually have a few errands to take care of, so Emily will be handling the run-through," she said, walking out of my office and leaving the door open. I wanted to run after her, but I was frozen in place. She was beginning to see me as a friend, and that was what scared me most: not only do I not have friends, but also, I had been hoping that we could be more than friends. Much more.

I finally stood from the table and carried the tray out to the kitchen—past both of my assistants—and threw it into the sink, shattering the plate and glasses. Andrea sat at her desk, staring at her hands in her lap. Emily was gawking, but right now, I couldn't care. Andrea had walked out on me for the second time in six days. I saw her quickly slip on my Burberry trench and dart out of the office, without even so much as a glance in my direction.

"Emily," I called. "Cancel the run-through. Clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. Have the book sent electronically tonight. Oh," I added, "did she ever get those cards from the florist?"

Emily quickly jumped up and reached for the cards on Andrea's desk. "Yes, here you are. Just leave them on your desk and I will see they are with the bouquets this evening," she said.

I took the cards from her and hastily wrote "I'm so proud of you! Love you, Mom" on each card and handed them to Emily on my way down to the closet. Quickly, I grabbed a few size zero dresses, pants, and blouses. Serena piled them into a single garment bag and offered to walk them downstairs for me. I shook my head and walked out, stopping only at my outer office to collect my own coat and bag before exiting the building and stepping into the towncar.

"Where to, Miranda?" Roy asked cheerfully from the front seat.

"Home," I said.

He started the engine and we quickly pulled out into traffic. "Mind if I ask a question?" he asked. Not waiting for my response, he continued, "Is everything alright today?"

"Roy, do you think two people can communicate effectively without words?" I asked.

"Well, Miranda, that would depend. For example, my wife and I sometimes just have to share a look and we know exactly what the other one is thinking, but I don't think I could do that with a stranger," he said.

"Was there ever a time," I asked, "where you thought your wife meant one thing, only later to find out you were deluded in your thinking?"

"Of course," he chuckled, "no offense, but isn't that what women are best at? Implying one thing, but meaning something entirely different?"

"No, I'm talking about something deeper. When you were first dating your wife, say, did you ever have that feeling where you knew something deep down, and felt like you didn't need to say it aloud because the feeling was so strong?"

"Ahh," Roy said. "I do believe I know what you're talking about, but in my experience, if you think you don't need to say it, the other person probably needs to hear it that much more from you." I was silent for a few minutes, just staring out the window and thinking of Andrea. "But of course, we're speaking entirely hypothetically, right Miranda?" Roy added.

"Of course," I said. I knew there was a reason I've kept him for so many years. He knows me better than any of my husbands ever did. He's probably spent more time with me than all three husbands combined. Thinking back, he was just starting out as my driver when I was pregnant.

He used to keep a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos in the car to manage some of my cravings. And, there was more than one time I made him pull over and find a bathroom when I couldn't hold it. The day I brought the girls home from the hospital, I remember how overprotective Roy was, how carefully he drove. He had infant car seats professionally installed in the town car, along with a bottle warmer, breast pump, and sound machine to block out traffic. James went straight to the office from the hospital that day, but I didn't feel alone. Roy carried the girls into the house and brought them upstairs to their nursery where Cara was waiting, and then he even carried me up the stairs to my room. The next week, when I was back to work, Roy would take me for drives all over the city several times a day so I could relax as I pumped, even taking short naps.

"Miranda?" he called. "Was there something else?" I snapped my eyes open and looked out the window, seeing that we had arrived at my home.

"Roy," I said, "I don't know that I've ever really expressed my gratitude to you. The past ten—or is it eleven?"

"Eleven next month," he said.

"Okay, the past eleven years you have been my fiercely loyal driver. You've seen and heard enough to make you a millionaire, yet you keep quiet and show up for work every day, anytime I call. Thank you, Roy, for everything," I said.

"Miranda, you're making me cry," he said, laughing. "You are an incredibly kind, generous woman, and I wish more people could see you the way I do," he said. "She does, you know," he added.

"Who?"

"Andy. She sees you like I do. She's different, Miranda," he said.

"I know," I said, slipping my sunglasses on despite the gloomy weather. "I won't be needing you anymore today. Enjoy your evening," I added before stepping out of the car and heading up the steps to my house. Once inside, I sat at my kitchen table and quickly dialed Nigel.

"Hi Miranda," he answered.

"Nigel, I'm sorry, but something has come up and I can't make it for a drink tonight. Can we do brunch on Sunday at Bergdorfs?"

"Yeah, that works if you can do later, say 1:30?"

"That's fine," I said, scribbling _1:30 - Bergdorfs w/ Nigel _in my calendar.

"Miranda, is everything okay? You left in such a rush," he said. "Is everything okay with Six?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I mean, I think she's fine, but you'll have to ask her," I added, not realizing how childish it sounded until I spoke it aloud.

"Aww, did you two have a fight?" Nigel teased. I was not in the mood, so I promptly hung up the phone.

_My behavior had been childish, hadn't it_, I thought. Andrea had asked me about the girls because she recognized that I had been friendlier towards her, sharing some personal stories. Then, when I wouldn't answer, she politely excused herself and left._ She must have been exhausted, and she didn't want to carry the conversation,_ I thought. Deciding to write her an email, I began drafting a message:

From: Priestly, Miranda  
To: Sachs, Andrea  
Subject: please forgive me

Dear Andrea,  
Please forgive me for my childish behavior this afternoon, which was quite inexcusable. I'm still learning how to be in a friendship where we ask each other questions and offer unsolicited advice. I was so focused on trying to be a good listener, I was blind to the fact that you needed a break and needed someone else to carry the conversation. In fact, I have actually been very conscious of what I have been saying, so much so that I have been trying to avoid talking about myself or the girls or my own mother, out of fears that you would think me insensitive if I weren't focused on you. So, please, forgive me, Andrea, and give me another chance. Dinner tonight at 6:30 at the townhouse?

Hope to see you later,  
Miranda

Satisfied, I clicked send and set my phone down. I had roughly five hours to drive to Whole Foods, gather groceries, then prepare a meal. I went upstairs, thinking I might change into jeans and my red Cole Haan drivers. Seeing the disheveled covers on the bed, I was suddenly reminded of the previous night, curling behind Andrea and holding her until she fell asleep clutching my red silk neglige. I slowly began making the bed and fluffing the pillows, inhaling Andrea's scent as I did so. I was a little surprised that I didn't find the red silk garment somewhere in the bed linens. In the bathroom, everything was in place, two towels hanging neatly on the towel bar. The bamboo hamper was empty, as was the hamper in my closet. Now, I was just suspicious. I checked my drawer to see if Cara possibly did laundry and placed it back in my drawer, but it was not there. I even went upstairs into the laundry room to double-check: she had done laundry this morning, as some items were hanging on the drying rack, but the red silk was nowhere to be found.

I returned to my room and slipped into my jeans and loafers, then headed back downstairs to collect my bag, phone, and the car keys. Quickly glancing through my emails, I saw that Andrea replied.

From: Sachs, Andrea  
To: Priestly, Miranda  
Subject: RE: please forgive me

Miranda, I accept your apology, and your invitation. I'll bring dinner if you take care of dessert?

xx, Andrea

I smiled as I read through her email. Now, to make the perfect dessert. Three and a half hours later, I was placing the lid on a triple-layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. Quite impressed with myself, I decided to take advantage of my impromptu afternoon off and take a nap, curling up on the couch where Andrea thought I was going to make her sleep last night. I smiled as I closed my eyes, secretly hoping Andrea would be spending the night tonight as well.

TBC


	10. Part 2 Chapter 5

Part 2, Chapter 5

About an hour later, Andrea let herself into the townhouse. "Miranda?" she called into the darkness. I woke, practically jumping up to turn the light on. "Hey, sorry I woke you up," she said. "So, is that the story why you left work today? To take a nap?" she teased.

"It's not and you know it," I said, standing and attempting to smooth the wrinkles out of my blouse.

"Well, rumors are flying at work, so I was just trying to get the inside story," she said, walking into the kitchen and setting a brown bag on the table. "Oh wow, that cake looks delicious. Did you make it?"

"Yes, and it was exhausting. So I guess the official story is that I left work to make a cake," I replied with a smirk.

"Well I can't wait to taste it," she said. "I brought Chinese. My favorite place is just around the corner from you. Kung Pao Tofu, Beef & Broccoli, and a side of duck fried rice and lo mein noodles. Does that work?"

I grinned. "Andrea, it's been years since I've had Chinese," I said, "and this looks delicious."

"Good!" she said, clearly relieved that I approved of the meal. "So would you like me to get plates and we can split it up? Or do you just want to eat out of the container?"

"Why dirty a plate?" I said. "I'll take the broccoli beef and noodles, if that's okay?" I asked.

"Perfect! I like both so it's no matter to me," she said, handing me two cartons and a pair of chopsticks.

I proceeded to pour the broccoli beef onto the noodles and stuck the chopsticks in the container. "Something to drink?" I asked, reaching for two glasses and two napkins. "Water, sparkling limeade, tea, wine?" I listed.

"I'll have whatever you're pouring," she said as she proceeded to mix her food.

"Well, then it's sparkling limeade," I said. "I've never liked wine with asian food, not even Sake. But I do have an excellent Syrah for the chocolate cake." I poured two glasses and handed one to Andrea, who followed me into the den.

"Andrea, I'm sorry for nagging you about eating," I said as I watched Andrea devour the fatty duck fried rice. "It's just—you're a beautiful young woman, and there is such a thing as begin too thin."

Andrea blushed. "Thank you. I know, I wasn't dieting or anything. It's just been so stressful this past month. When I sit down to eat, I just haven't been hungry. Or even if I do eat, sometimes my stomach is too nervous." She paused for a few minutes, taking a bite of the tofu. "I really appreciate that you even noticed and were concerned," she added.

"How could I not notice?" I said, "When I hugged you yesterday, I think I felt each of your ribs."

"Well, it's not like you had anything to compare it to," she said under her breath.

"What?"

"The hug," she said. "Yesterday was the first time you hugged me. It's not like you would have known if I had particularly sharp ribs."

"Oh. Right," I said, looking down as I ate a few more bites of food. "But I'm glad to hear that you haven't been trying to drop all this weight. You were quite perfect at a six, or maybe even four."

"Can we stop talking about my weight please?" she said, setting her carton on the coffee table.

"Of course. I'm sorry," I said. "Would you like to talk about mine? I weigh anywhere between 130 and 140, and typically wear a size two, though lately, I've been finding that more and more size four pants have found their way into my closet." I took a few more bites of food before setting my carton on the table with Andrea's. "I'm sorry. You should really try and not take everything I say so personally," I said, "but I know that's easier said than down. Now, you asked me about the girls today, Andrea, and I want to try and answer your question."

"Even if it means _delving into your psyche_?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "but just remember, you asked for it," I said. "I'm just going to pop our leftovers into the fridge, okay?"

Andrea nodded and I quickly stepped out of the room. When I returned, I sat in my corner of the couch and tucked my legs underneath myself. "About ten years ago," I began, "my mother was furious that I wasn't doing anything about the way the press wrote about me. Honestly, I didn't care what they said or didn't say, but my mother insisted I needed to be photographed petting a giraffe or rolling around in the park with a puppy, or better yet, she said I needed to have a baby of my own."

"Miranda—" Andrea interrupted, "Please don't feel obligated to tell me any of this. I shouldn't have pressed you this afternoon after you mentioned regretting having children. I won't be upset if you don't continue," she said, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

"Thank you, but if you're still a willing listener, I really need to just get this out," I said" Andrea nodded and moved closer to me on the couch, still holding my hand. "So, my mother insisted that if I was to live in the public eye, I needed to work that angle. She wanted me to have a baby. I casually brought it up to James—of course, not telling him it was my mother's idea—and he was very much against it. I think one of the reasons we were so compatible early on was that we were both workaholics and our first marriage really was to our careers.

"We had agreed years prior that we wouldn't think about children until we had secured stable positions at the top. Well, I became Editor in Chief the year after we got married, and I think he always resented me for being more successful than him. Naturally, when I brought up the idea of children, he told me to wait a few years. He also tried telling me that my promotion was only temporary and that they would replace me in a year's time."

"Clearly he was wrong about that," Andrea said.

"Yes," I said. "Well, I decided that my mother was right, and that it was the right moment in my career to have a child, so I began seeing a fertility specialist—on my own. I was almost forty-one, and they thought I should have no problem conceiving, but I insisted I needed help. So," I said, sighing, "I was giving myself hormone shots for months, then trying to seduce my husband during my peak ovulation times. It was really pathetic, looking back—how sneaky I was about everything. I showed up at his office several times in the middle of the day. Once," I said, laughing at the memory, "I was waiting at home for him in nothing but some scandalous lingerie, but of course he brought some colleagues home with him that night, sending me running upstairs and hiding. It was so embarrassing.

"Another night, he came home and I was doing something in the kitchen. He actually picked me up and carried me all the way upstairs to the bedroom. I don't know if it was the outfit I was wearing or the way I was stirring the soup, but for the first time in over a year, he actually wanted to have sex with me and I didn't have to beg him—except, he insisted on using a rubber 'just to be safe.' But after that night, we were closer for a while, cuddling, fooling around, just the little things. It was nice, and I was being patient. Later that week, after taking my temperature at lunch, I called him and told him I was on my way to his office. He knew what I wanted, and the minute I walked into his office, he pulled me into a small coat closet that was built-in to the wall. It was quick—too quick for him to pull out a condom. I'll never forget the 'I just fucked my wife in the closet' grin plastered on his face as he walked me out that day. But, lo and behold, two weeks later when I took a pregnancy test, it came back positive."

"Oh wow," Andrea said.

"As you can imagine, my mother was ecstatic. I waited as long as I possibly could before breaking the news because I did not want a public pregnancy. The first four months were horrendous, as I was alone and still being relatively new in my job, I didn't have flexibility. I did eventually take two weeks off at my doctor's advice in my second month, but I never told James. I would wake up and get ready every morning as he was going to work, and the minute he was out the door, my mother was over, holding my hand while I vomited. I had pretty bad morning sickness—to the point where I was actually losing weight because I couldn't keep anything other than water or juice down. Finally, after the fifteenth week, things began to lighten up and my nausea practically disappeared. But because of the morning sickness, any weight I gained because of the baby was offset by the weight I had lost."

"So James didn't notice? Were you guys still…you know, intimate?"

"No. He was always busy and I was too focused on trying not to vomit in front of him. I soon found out I was having twin girls, and while my mother was again ecstatic, I was going through some sort of pre-partum depression where I felt so incredibly guilty for keeping so much from James, it was getting worse the more I talked to him. I was near suicidal and I was afraid to be around him for fear that he would go crazy if he found out. My mother made me speak with a therapist, and that did help a little, but even he agreed that I needed to tell my husband. Of course, I was waiting for the perfect time that never came.

"Two months later, when I was twenty-six weeks along, my belly finally began to swell. It seemed like it was getting bigger every hour. I started consciously dressing to hide the bump—empire waists, wrap blouses, layered jackets, anything. I finally needed a larger size pants. I had just climbed into bed one night when I heard James get home from a benefit. He told me he missed me and asked if my headache was better. After changing out of his tux and taking a quick shower, he climbed into bed and curled up behind me. He said that he was thinking having a baby might be a good idea.

"My hormones were going crazy and with the way he was kissing me, all I could think about was sex, so I didn't even reply, just turned over and straddled him. As his hands traveled over my body, he stopped and pushed me away, turning on the bedside lamp and gawking at the changes in my body. He was speechless, and I just started sobbing, my tears answering the unspoken question. I had to reassure him that it was his—he thought I had been cheating. When I told him I was twenty-six weeks along, he went ballistic, as I expected.

"I had been lying to him for over seven months, and I knew deep down that nothing would ever heal that; our relationship would be over. He filed for divorce the next day, but remained a good friend to me for the next two months, when I was putting on something like five pounds every day. I couldn't ask anything more of him, and I was very glad that he was around to do little things like put lotion on my feet or rub my back."

"I can't picture you pregnant," Andrea said, smiling. "How long did he stick around?"

"Basically, until they were born" I said. "My water broke during at showing at Calvin Klein, and I was never so embarrassed in my life. To this day I will not return to that showroom. My mother was in the delivery room with me, and I later found out that no one had even bothered to call James. He came shortly after they were born, and stopped by every morning for the entire week we were in the hospital, always to see them, not me. I was actually just reminiscing with Roy—the day I brought the girls home, James wasn't even there to help. I wasn't supposed to climb stairs or carry anything weighing more than ten pounds, so if it wasn't for Roy carrying the girls up to the nursery, and then carrying _me_ up after them, I don't know what I would have done."

"Oh wow, I had no idea, Miranda," Andrea said. "But James has always been in their lives?"

"For the first few months, James didn't come by much. He got a new place across town and slowly moved his things out. I was back at work, and honestly, Cara and my mother were the only two people who really saw the girls. Because they were premature, I was paranoid about germs and didn't want to take them anywhere. It wasn't until my doctor told me I could be doing more harm than good by keeping them so isolated that I started relaxing.

"Once they were about three months old, James started taking one of them to his place for the weekend, alternating turns. It worked out nice, actually. I got to spend time with my daughter without being stressed about having two to deal with. My mother and Cara were able to take the weekends off, and it was really quite perfect. But once they were about a year old, they became very attached to my mother, and cried when I tried to hold them. James tried taking them both to his place for the weekend, but they wouldn't stop crying, even when I went to pick them up. We had to call my mother. But James was persistent. He started spending his weekends at the townhouse with my mother, bonding with the girls, and soon, they were comfortable going to his place."

"I bet you missed them when he took them," Andrea said.

I slowly pulled my hand away from Andrea's and pulled my knees to my chest. "Well, that's the other part. No, I didn't. I was out of my mind, Andrea. I actually looked forward to the weekends so I wouldn't have to hear the screaming children, or be embarrassed when one of my suitors heard them. Even when James was staying with them here at the townhouse, I was always going out to parties and clubs, a different date every night. After a year or so, my mother gave me a reality check when she told me James was planning to sue for full custody, and that she would be forced to side with him. I got scared and tried to spend every possible minute with them, even setting up a bassinet in my office at _Runway_. James later told me he wasn't really going to petition the court, but he just wanted me to get my head on straight. It worked, and I'm grateful for that," I said. "But I think it was a situation of 'too little, too late.'"

"Do the girls still see him every weekend?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah, for the most part, unless he has plans or I want to do something with them. He has been a really good father to them. If it weren't for him and Cara…" I said, my voice trailing off. "I know the girls like Cara better than they like me. They always have. She's the one who's there for them when they get home, who puts band-aids on their cuts, who packs their lunch, and who lets them cry on her shoulder when they didn't get the grade they wanted. I'm nothing more than—than a roommate. Sure, I buy them gifts and toys and send them flowers for their recitals, but even I know that there's nothing I can give them to make up for my absence. They have been staying with James since a few days before Paris, and we decided that it was best that he keep them for a few more weeks in case there is any other news about my impending divorce. I have a feeling he wants this to be a permanent move," I said.

"Don't say that, Miranda. If you want them back, we can fight for them. I'm sure they would love the opportunity to get to know you if you just give them a chance," Andrea said.

"Thank you for being so optimistic, but I don't think you understand. I don't even know what to say to them. I have no idea what mothers talk to their children about," I said.

"Well, think about what you talk to your mother about," she said. "Do they still see your mother? You said they were close with her when they were little."

I sighed, "My mother died nearly five years ago of pancreatic cancer. By the time she was diagnosed, she was dead six weeks later."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, Miranda," Andrea said.

"I'm used to it now," I said. "The first few weeks were the worst, because I kept picking up the phone to call her and tell her something, only to remember she was dead and I would never be able to do that again."

"Well, now is the perfect time to build that relationship with your daughters," Andrea said.

"Don't you realize they _hate _me?" I spat. "I think they liked Stephen better than me."

"Miranda, everyone yearns to know his or her parents. How many times have you heard of someone spending years hunting down his or her biological mother? Or someone meeting his father the day he was released from prison? It's human nature to want to know your parents. Every relationship isn't hugs and kisses and 'I love you' but that doesn't make it less of a relationship. In a few years, they aren't going to want anything to do with James or you or even Cara, so now is the perfect time to talk to them," she urged.

"Now do you see why I didn't want this conversation in the office today? Andrea, I can't just decide this right now."

"Why not? Pretend it's like work, and, I don't know, Gisele _hates_ Heidi, but Patrick needs to photograph them together in a shoot."

"That is a horrible, horrible analogy," I said. "First, Heidi hasn't been doing anything other than charity appearances for years. Second, Patrick would never—"

"Okay, I get it," she said, "but come on. If this were anything related to work, you would have made the decision and had a plan in motion already and you know it."

"Can we change the subject?" I said. "How about some wine and cake?"

"Okay," she said, reluctantly standing to follow me into the kitchen. I noticed that she checked her phone—and actually, she had been checking her phone the entire evening.

TBC


	11. Part 2 Chapter 6

Part 2, Chapter 6

"Is everything okay?" I asked, casually gesturing at her phone.

"Yeah, it's just—I was expecting a call."

"Oh, do you need to go?" I asked.

"No. It's after 10, she's already in bed," she said. After I shot an inquiring look, she clarified, "My mom. I was expecting my mom to call me."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, just cut the cake please," she said. I wasn't exactly sure when she suddenly grew so tense. I handed her a large wedge of cake, and attempted to cut a smaller piece for myself, but I think it turned out even bigger.

"I feel like we need candles or something for a cake this size," I said. I picked up my glass and toasted with Andrea, "to us," I said.

"To us," she repeated, sipping the dry Syrah.

"Well?" I asked after she had taken a bite.

"Oh my god, Miranda, this cake is delicious. This is the best birthday cake ever," she said, taking another bite. "And if you're wondering," she continued, answering my confused expression, "yes, today is my twenty-fourth birthday, and my mother forgot. Happy birthday to me."

I gasped and set my wine glass down. I wanted to wrap my arms around her but then I hesitated—what was it she said about hugs earlier? Oh well, I thought as I did just that, wrapping my arms tightly around her shoulders and kissing her softly on her cheekbone. "Happy birthday, darling," I said.

She reached over and set her wine and fork on the counter next to mine, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist as she buried her face in my neck. After a few minutes, she was still clutching, holding tightly to the fabric of my shirt. "Are you okay, sweetie?" I asked her, leaning back and lifting her chin softly with my finger.

"I'm sorry, Miranda," she said, pulling her hands up to cover her face. Her mascara was smeared all over her cheeks. "Thank you for the cake," she said, turning to walk out of the kitchen.

"Wait!" I said, running after her and taking her by the elbow. "Please, just, at least wait until you can wash the mascara from your eyes," I said. "I mean, if you really can't stand to be around me."

She stopped in her tracks. "It's not you, Miranda. Stop being so insecure—it's not always about you," she said, walking back over to the couch and sitting down.

I was shocked by her words, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth. Was I really being insecure? selfish? I slowly walked over to the couch and sat next to her. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. She didn't respond, so I repeated myself, louder this time. "I'm so sorry that your mother forgot your birthday and that I was no better. I'm sorry for being selfish and insecure when you turned to leave. And…I'm sorry for burdening you with my issues."

"Miranda, I don't need you to apologize, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have overreacted. But, it's just, how could a mother forget her own daughter's birthday?! I mean, I'm sure you even remember that," she said.

I bit my tongue and tried to tell myself she did not mean that the way it came out. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with this," I said, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. "And I wish there was something I could say or do to magically make it better, but I think we both know it will take time."

"I don't want to wait," she cried, "I want my mother now, the way she used to be."

"Andrea," I said, "if there's anything you need you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Uhh, thanks," she said, "But I don't exactly think of you like a mother."

Again, I bit my tongue. Did she mean to imply that I wasn't mother-material? Or that she has trouble imagining me as her mother, perhaps implying she sees me as something else…a special friend or something? I sighed. "Well, I hate to waste a perfectly good piece of cake," I said. "Shall I bring it in here?"

"Sure," Andrea said. In the kitchen, I also ran a paper towel under the faucet and wrang it out before returning with two plates and two glasses of wine.

I set the items on the coffee table and sat down, reaching over and turning Andrea's face gently towards me. Her eyes were closed. "You know," I said quietly as I dabbed at the black streaks, "eye makeup will leave shadows on your skin that take days to wear off," I said. "Will—will you wait for one moment while I run up and get makeup remover?" She nodded, her eyes still shut.

I ran back downstairs with several cotton pads and a bottle of argan oil cleanser, my miracle makeup remover. "Okay, I'm back," I said, sitting next to her again.

"I must look so ugly right now," she said.

"Now look who's being insecure," I said with a smile as I continued wiping the black streaks from her face. When I was finished, I placed one hand on each side of her face. "Sweetheart, open your eyes," I said. "You. Are. Beautiful. Do you hear me?"

She nodded as more tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm sorry I have this habit of running from you. I think I just get frustrated and need some space," she said. "And short of you killing one of my family members I _do_ like, I will never run away from you without coming back."

I bit my lower lip to keep from crying myself. For the first time in I don't know how many years, I had someone—another human being—who cared about me, who was on my side…and I liked it. "Sooo," I said, "If I happen to kill one of the family members you _don't_ like?"

"Well, then I will probably just give you a big hug and say thanks," she said with a smirk.

"You're incredible, do you know that?" I said.

She smiled. "Okay, now back to this triple chocolate birthday cake you baked especially for me…" she said, taking her plate and stuffing a huge bite into her mouth. "Sooo good," she mumbled, "you should really try this."

I picked up my plate and began nibbling at the cake, washing it down with the peppery Syrah. "Can I get you more wine?" I offered, seeing Andrea's glass was nearly empty. She nodded, and I returned, filling both of our glasses. We sat in silence for a few minutes after giving up on the gigantic pieces of cake. I leaned back into the couch and turned my head towards Andrea. "So, you really don't think it's too late to start a relationship with my girls?" I asked.

"Of course not!" she said, eagerly turning to face me. "You need to do this. I'll be right here with you, that is, if you want."

I closed my eyes and nodded my head. "We'll start thinking about it tomorrow." I paused for a minute before continuing, "Thank you for listening tonight, and not judging, and not leaving, and…and for giving me hope," I said. My hands were trembling as I realized that tonight was the first time I had ever shared some of that with someone else other than my mother. Even James never heard the whole story.

"And thank you for trusting me," she said, "and for taking my mind off of all the shit going on in my family, even if just for a few hours."

"Of course," I said, wrapping my arms around her and giving her another hug. This time, she kissed me on the cheek before burying her face in my neck. "Would you like to stay over again tonight?" I asked.

"If you promise to stay with me until I fall asleep," she said.

"Well, I think I can manage that," I said, letting go of her and reaching down for the plates and glasses. "Oh, and you can keep the red silk lingerie," I whispered into her ear before getting up.

She gasped. That was all I needed to know. "Why don't you head upstairs and I'll join you in a few minutes," I called from the kitchen.

"Okay, do you mind if I take a shower tonight?" she asked.

"Go ahead, you know where everything is," I called. As I cleaned up the kitchen, I kept coming back to the chocolate cake. Andrea's mother must be taking her mother's death very hard if she couldn't even send a note or make a two-minute call to say hello. On this, I was a little torn. Of course, I felt Andrea's heartache that one's own mother forgets her, but having lost my mother, too, I can relate to Andrea's mother as well.

I heard the shower turn on upstairs and quickly turned out the lights in the kitchen and den, set the alarm system, grabbed the argan oil cleanser and cotton balls, then headed upstairs. I had left the pink cotton nightshirt on the dresser, so Andrea must have taken it with her to change into after her shower. I dug through my drawer and pulled out a black silk babydoll top with matching silk hipsters. Changing into those, I tossed my clothes in the hamper and used the cleanser to remove my makeup. The shower was still running, so I left the dresser lamp on before climbing between the covers.

Nearly ten minutes later, Andrea came out of the bathroom, quietly turning out the light before climbing in on the other side of the bed. "Was your shower okay?" I asked, smelling her freshly-shampooed hair. She nodded. I have never wanted the young woman more than I did in that moment while she lounged next to me. But, we had been growing so close, I was too scared to lose what we had to do anything about it. "Goodnight, Andrea," I said, turning to face away from her.

"Are you going to work in the morning?" she asked.

"To be perfectly honest, I hadn't thought about it," I said. "I might just take a vacation day," I said as I ran through my schedule in my mind. Nothing urgent until next week.

"Oh, okay, well, I still have to go in, so I will just slip out early and get ready at my place," she said.

"Oh, wait. If you prefer, I can just tell Nigel I will work from home, and you can go pickup my computer or whatever, and work from here for the rest of the day," I said. "Will that work?"

"So I still have to be there by eight?" Andrea groaned, flopping down on the bed.

"Yes," I said, "I'm sorry. But you can take a nice long nap once you get back!"

"But I still don't have anything to wear tomorrow," she said, frowning.

"I grabbed some items from the closet today. For you, actually. They're in a garment bag downstairs," I said.

"Miranda?" she questioned. "Why are you so good to me?"

I sighed. "Because I'm a kind, caring, considerate, generous, and overall nice person," I said with a smirk.

"You know, sometimes you drive me crazy, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Goodnight, Miranda," she said.

"Goodnight," I repeated. After several minutes of trying to get comfortable, I felt Andrea move closer to me, sliding her arm around my waist. I sighed—no, it was actually much closer to a moan—as she pulled me close.

"Mmm, much better," she murmured, softly kissing my neck before we drifted off to sleep.

TBC


	12. Pt 3 - As much for your career as mine

Part Three: Why do you think they never have freesia shows?

Chapter 1

Working from home had been an excellent decision. I stayed in bed until Andrea returned with my computer, and even then, I simply threw on my robe and sat in the study. Such were the joys of working from home. Emily had postponed a few meetings until next week—which was sure to be hellish—but I was still able to talk to Nigel about Victor's apprenticeship and the revised accessories layouts, which he sent over with Andrea in the morning. Andrea, who was at the moment curled up on the couch with Patricia at her feet.

Smiling, I went over to join them, quietly making the St. Bernard give up her warm seat. There wasn't much space left with Andrea spread out on the couch, so I curled against the arm rest and closed my eyes—another joy of working at home: early afternoon naps. Several minutes later, I woke to Andrea lacing her fingers in mine, tugging me down to lay with her. "We can both fit," she said, turning on her side and draping her arm over me.

"Mmmh," I sighed. "You're spoiling me," I said, adjusting my robe since I was wearing nothing but my black silk lingerie underneath. "I could get used to this, you know.

"Me too," she said softly.

Again, I desperately wanted to know what she meant by that, but I was afraid of pushing her, as there was a chance she wanted nothing more than friendship. At this point, I would take whatever she was willing to offer me, as I couldn't imagine my life without Andrea Elizabeth Sachs, the formerly-frumpy girl who held my heart.

"I have been thinking about calling the girls," I whispered after nearly thirty minutes of silence. "The Orchid Show opens next weekend at the Botanical Gardens."

"That would be a great idea, Miranda," she said.

"I guess I'm just nervous. I mean, it will take a few hours, and we can't exactly talk about flowers the whole time," I said. "And I don't even know if they're interested in that type of thing. Would you come with?"

"Miranda, I don't think—"

"Forget it, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," I quickly said, not wanting to hear her turn me down.

"Miranda, wait, listen to me," she said. "I would love to go with you. And I would love to go with you and your daughters; however, while I may not know them that well, I am fairly certain they are not stupid. Think about what their reaction might be if they think you've invited them and all of a sudden you're there with someone else and they're just tagging along?"

"I suppose you're right," I said. Of course she was right.

"I have another idea," she said. "What if I just happen to be there at the same time and we run into one another?"

"You would do that? Go by yourself and wait around for me?" I asked.

"Of course. I also happen to love orchids," Andrea said.

"Would you be interested in going to one of their cocktail evenings? They're sold out, but since I'm on the board I just need to make a phone call," I said, suddenly incredibly nervous as I essentially just asked my assistant out on a date—a very public date.

"You're on the board for the New York Botanical Gardens?" she asked in disbelief.

I relaxed. Maybe she didn't see it as a date after all. "Yes, why do you think they never have freesia shows?" I said with a smirk, even though I know she couldn't see my face.

"You're incredible," she said, squeezing her arm around my waist. "Yes, I would love to go, thank you."

"Great, I'll make the call as soon as I get up. But back to the girls," I said. "I don't know what to say to them," I said.

Andrea awkwardly sat up on the couch, forcing me to sit up as well. "Just be honest with them. Lower your ego a few notches," she said. "Here," she stood and retrieved my blackberry from the desk. "Call them now, they're already home from school."

I don't know why I didn't question her. Maybe there was something to be said about having someone else—someone I could trust—make decisions for me. I took a deep breath and dialed James' number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, James," I said.

"Miranda, how are you? Is everything alright?"

"Good, yes it's fine. I—I was thinking that maybe I could do something with the girls next weekend…that is, if they would be interested. There hasn't been anything in the press about the divorce, and I don't expect anything for a few months until it's official. And, I just…god, James I've been such a fool. I just don't want them to hate me," I said.

He must have sensed the change in my tone, as his softened considerably. "Mira, they don't hate you. They don't really know you."

"I know, and I want to change that," I said, trying to sound sincere. I reached over and took Andrea's hand, tightly lacing our fingers together.

"You know, I've been waiting for this day, but let's be honest, I thought you would have come to your senses after Harriet died," he said.

"I should have," I said. "But instead I pushed everyone away. Well, now I'm ready, if they'll still have me."

"I think the real you can win anyone over," he said. "Let me call them downstairs."

I waited for several seconds, staring into Andrea's eyes until I heard them in the background. "Do we have to?" I heard Caroline ask. I bit my lip and held my breath, willing the tears not to fall.

"Hi, Mom," Caroline said.

"Hi honey," I said, surprised that James forced her to speak with me. "Is your sister there, too?"

"Yep," Cassidy said.

"I've missed you girls so much—I want you to know that I think about you every single day. I—I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go to The Orchid Show on Saturday a week from tomorrow at the Botanical Gardens, and maybe we could have lunch or something, too," I said. I closed my eyes as I waited for their response. Andrea squeezed my hand.

There was silence for several seconds, and I could just imagine them silently communicating before responding. "Yeah, that sounds cool."

"Our science teacher was telling us about it."

"Oh wonderful," I said, letting out the breath I didn't know I was keeping in. "How about we plan for 11am Saturday—we can walk around, then grab lunch after?"

"Sure. There's a basketball game at 6pm at Dalton and we're both going, so as long as we're home to get ready for that, should be fine," Caroline said.

"That's perfect. You'll be home in plenty of time. I'll pick you up at about quarter to eleven, and then we can walk from my…we can walk from _our house_ to the Gardens, is that okay?" I asked.

"Sure. What should we wear?" Cassidy asked.

"Whatever you like. There may be photographers because it's opening weekend," I said, "but I want you to be comfortable."

"Ok, thanks Mom, see you next week—I gotta run," Cassidy said.

"Bye Cass, see you Saturday."

"Caroline?"

"I'm still here."

"I want you and your sister both to know how much I love you, okay? I know I haven't been the best mother. In the past few years, I have hardly been your mother at all, but I want that to change, okay? You two are so precious to me, I can't lose you," I said as tears began streaming down my cheeks. "Your father and I both love you very very much."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you, too, and I know Cass does, too. And we love it here with dad, but sometimes we really do just miss having you around—like our friends' moms are," she said.

I cringed, thinking that my daughter recognized how little time I spent with them. "Of course, honey. I know I can't go back in time, but I do want to be there for you two as much as possible. Now I'll see you Saturday morning, okay?"

"Yep!"

"Have a good night, I love you."

"Love you too. Here's dad," she said, handing the phone to James. I could tell he was waiting to say anything until Caroline was out of earshot.

"Jesus Miranda," he whispered, "what the hell did you say to her? She had tears in her eyes when I came back in the room!"

I couldn't help but smile, "I guess she takes after me," I said, with a sniffle. "I simply told her how much I loved her—how much we both love her—and apologized for not really being a mother."

"Oh," he said, knowing how emotional Caroline was inclined to get. "So what did you guys plan?"

"Orchid show. I'll pick them up next Saturday at quarter to eleven and we should be back by three."

"Great. They'll be ready."

"James, thank you again," I said.

"Don't mention it," he said, hanging up.

I set my phone down and buried my face in my hands, sobbing. I hadn't talked to them in weeks. There was so much I didn't know about them—so much I wanted to know. I was so overwhelmed with emotions, I hardly even noticed Andrea leading me into my bedroom and onto the bed. She curled up behind me and held me while uncontrollable sobs assaulted my body, the pillow hardly muffling my screams. I heard her humming quietly as she tried to calm me down, and surprisingly, it was working. I could feel her torso vibrating as she hummed, and it was soothing, like a cat's gentle purr.

Eventually, my tears dried up and my heart rate began to steady. After laying in silence for several minutes, Andrea asked, "Do you always get like this?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, "Yes, I cry a lot, if that's what you're asking."

"Well, is it typically triggered by things that aren't inherently sad?" she asked.

"Actually, yes," I said, as if struck by such clarity. "I don't really cry at sad things unless there's something to it."

"Miranda, you are so beautifully complex, sometimes I'm just in awe," Andrea said.

I slowly turned in her arms so I was facing her, our noses almost touching. I reached up and cupped her cheek. "Andrea, you are—" but she cut me off before I could finish.

"Don't say it. Don't say anything. I don't want to ruin the moment," she whispered.

At that moment, I knew in my heart that she was thinking the same thing I had been thinking earlier—that she didn't want to lose what we had by taking a chance. It was that 'go big or go home' moment we always spoke of for new designers during their fashion week shows. So much hinged on this moment, and I certainly wasn't about to add Andrea to my list of regrets in life.

I closed my eyes and closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers. She responded immediately, kissing me back. I sighed into her mouth, releasing all control to the woman before me. Her lips set my nerve endings on fire, shooting sparks throughout my body from the hairs on my head to the tips of my toes. I felt my muscles clench as wetness seeped from my lower folds, pooling between my legs.

After some time, we broke for air, my lungs heaving as I struggled to catch my breath, the smell of my arousal lingering in the air. My eyes fluttered open to see Andrea hovering above me. "Do you get like this, too, when you get emotional?" she asked, a smile playing across her face. "Because I can get used to this," she said.

"I don't know much of anything anymore," I said, not able to follow her train of thought at the moment.

TBC


	13. Part 3 Chapter 2

Part 3, Chapter 2

"Miranda, if I kiss you again, I won't be able to stop," she said, her voice deep and lusty.

Her words made my muscles tingle. All I could think of was her relieving that ache. But with a sudden glimpse of clarity, I slid out from under her arms and sat on the edge of the bed, hanging my head. "Andrea, I do want you to kiss me again, really, so much so that it's difficult to think straight right now," I said, "but this is not the right time."

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting next to me.

"For one, I am still legally married to Stephen Tomlinson. That won't be finalized for another six months. And then there's the whole business of you being my assistant, and, this," I said, gesturing between us while I glanced at the clock, "happening while we're both supposed to be working." I sighed. "And Andrea, I finally have a chance with my daughters. I can't screw this up."

She took my hand in hers. "I understand," she said, kissing my knuckles. "I will be at your side as your friend through all of this if you'll let me," she said.

I nodded. "And _Runway_?" I asked.

"I'll find another job. I actually need to look, anyway, since I can't afford my rent on my own anyway. I could find a desk job somewhere and wait tables at night," she said.

"I will find you something, not at _Runway, _but something in publishing where there is potential to move up," I said. "I won't have you waiting tables."

"Thank you, but I'm sure a junior reporter's salary won't be enough to pay my rent," she said. "So unless I can find a roommate to share my studio apartment, I will have to find a second job."

"Darling, let me help you out," I said, turning to her. Of course, she mentioned months ago that she was only with her boyfriend to help with rent, but it hadn't even occurred to me that she might be struggling to pay her bills right now. "I'll pay your rent for the next six months, even a year. That way you can focus on your career and not have to struggle," I said.

"Miranda, I could never accept that," she said.

"Okay," I said. I really did understand Andrea's reluctance to accept help; I was the same way when I was starting out, but I wasn't ready to tell her of my days working as a salon assistant. I had another idea, but I was cautious, not wanting to start an argument at the moment.

"I do have another idea," I said, "So, I have been looking to get into real estate for a while, especially as there have been some stunning properties up for foreclosure lately. What if I tell Jonathan to go ahead and start sending me some to choose from? I'll find a small 1-2 bedroom in a safe area, and then you can just rent from me for a very affordable price."

"Really?" she asked. "I mean, you wouldn't be going out of your way or anything?"

"Not at all. The only reason I've been holding off is that I hadn't found a property manager who I could pay to be an acting landlord. But if you're the one renting, I'm fairly certain we wouldn't need the middle man. If there were any repairs, you could just contact me and I would have it taken care of," I said.

"H—how soon do you think this would happen?" she asked.

"As early as May 1st? Foreclosures are usually short sales. That would give us enough time to make any necessary renovations, too. Do you have furniture or would you want it furnished?"

"All I have is a bookshelf. Everything else came with my apartment," she said.

"Well, then you will be the perfect person to help me decorate," I said.

Andrea reached over and hugged me tightly, kissing me on the cheek. "Oh, Miranda, you are a lifesaver. Thank you so much," she said.

"You're very welcome," I replied as I gazed into her eyes.

_Was she thinking what I was thinking? _I wondered. _Was she nervous, too? Afraid of this growing attraction in the same way I am? _I bit my lip and closed my eyes as I turned away, knowing I couldn't face her big brown eyes, not right now.

"I, uh, guess I should be going," she said, slowly pushing away from me. She stood next to the bed with her back turned while she smoothed out her clothes. "I, um, I'll talk to you soon," she said. "If there's anything that comes up before Monday, uh, I'm sure you'll let me know."

I nodded. "Andrea? Can you send me your resume this weekend? It would be very helpful if I could speak to some of the specific details of your work before _Runway_, and follow-up any of my phone calls with your resume." I was slightly embarrassed that I hadn't so much as remembered which university she attended, let alone why she felt so qualified to work in publishing, but one could say I was a little preoccupied the day she walked into my life.

"Of course," she said. "I just have to add a few finishing touches concerning my current employment. Thank you again for doing this," she said.

"It's my pleasure, Andrea. You deserve to be in a position that will compensate you accordingly for the value you bring." She smiled and headed downstairs, locking the door behind her as she left.

I promptly returned to my study and began making a few lists of my EIC colleagues at various New York publications: one list ranked by prestige of publication, another by those who owe me favors, and another by opportunity at each publication. Satisfied with my lists, I settled back into my desk and read through any emails that came through later in the day.

On the other side of town, Andrea hovered over her computer screen, crafting the perfect resume. It was nearly 2AM when she saved her final copy and went to bed, deciding she would reread in the morning before sending it off.

The next morning, I woke to find Andrea had emailed her resume at 8AM. I busied myself around the house during the day, and I wasn't really sure where the day had gone, but seeing that it was nearly 7PM, I headed upstairs into my study. Pouring myself a glass of Merlot, I printed out Andrea's resume and went over it with a fine-tooth comb. I was quite impressed a how well-written and structured it was. _If anything, she wasn't giving herself enough credit for her responsibilities at Runway, but I could easily speak to that,_ I thought. I scrolled through my contacts on my blackberry, then dialed the numbers on my desk phone.

"Hi Turner? It's Miranda…good, good, and you?…Excellent. Is this a good time?…Yes, well, I have someone you really need to hire. She's been my assistant for the past year, and honestly, I can trust her with anything. She has stepped up and done everything for me from copyediting to coming up with innovative solutions for our advertisers. She has plenty of writing experience, and she was actually the EIC of her college newspaper, but unfortunately I only have two writing-related positions on my staff, and as much as I'd like to keep her, on, I can't justify replacing my veteran writers…Yes, uh-huh…oh, I understand, but I would really appreciate if you can keep her in mind…yes, I'm sending it now. Oh, and do tell Maud I saw the dress she wore at the ceremony last month. That Dior gown looked absolutely stunning and she stole the room. Tell her we will have to get coffee and catch up…Okay, you too…goodnight." I hung up the phone. "Asshole," I said aloud, taking a gulp from my wine glass.

Next on the list, Col Allan of the _New York Post_, then Tina over at _Newsweek. _If those didn't work out, my next call would be to Kevin at the _NY Daily News_, and finally John at the _New York Mirror_.

Four calls and one voicemail later, I was confident Andrea would have a job within the next few weeks. Next, I decided to give Jonathan a call and explain to him what I was looking for. I told him I already had a tenant lined up, and that she was a personal friend, so no management company would be necessary. He anticipated several short sales coming up soon, and assured me he would set appointments for any he thought would work. I explained that I might have to send my assistant in my place, but that I trusted her completely. Content with the conversation, I left the study and drew a relaxing, hot bath for myself.

TBC


	14. Part 3 Chapter 3

Part 3, Chapter 3

On Sunday morning, I read through several emails from the previous day. It appeared there was a malfunction with one of the printers and it was causing some mild chaos back at the office. I sighed, thinking about how involved I would have been, had I showed up at the office yesterday. Saturdays and Sundays were technically my days off, but nearly every weekend I spent at least one day in the office. _That will have to change_, I thought as I anticipated Andrea's departure. Some of the only time I would have to spend with the young woman would be on the weekend.

I showered and dressed for brunch with Nigel. I hadn't been to Bergdorf Goodman in nearly six months, so I decided to head over early and spend some time strolling through their store. They always had the most fascinating layouts, in part due to the unique interior of the historic building on 5th Avenue and 58th Street. I made a few small purchases—including a pair of Charlotte Olympia wedge sandals that were probably too young for me—before heading upstairs to wait for Nigel in the restaurant.

He joined me several minutes later and we both ordered mimosas and eggs benedict. I could see he was on edge, so I quickly got to the point. "Nigel, I know you are disappointed about the James Holt position. Please trust me when I tell you that this partnership will fail very quickly. I wanted something better for you," I added.

"Well, thank you, Miranda," he said, "but honestly, that doesn't make me feel that much better."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I was considering giving you some added responsibility within _Runway_, though. Would you be interested in that?" I asked.

He set down his glass, clearly very interested in what I had to say.

"For years, we've been talking about a men's _Runway_, and while I still don't think it will be a reality just yet, I think we need someone to manage our brand strategy, and you would be perfect for that. Right now, we have multiple people in different departments working on _Runway _branding, and I really think that under your leadership, a new extension of our brand—be it a men's magazine or something else—will very much be a reality."

"Miranda, I'm speechless," he said.

"Well, do you accept?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, of course!" he said. "I just—I—I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

"Ah, yes. You should know better than that, Nigel," I said with a smile.

We toasted our glasses to his new position and I promised him the announcement would be made this week. There was something else I wanted to talk to him about, but I wasn't sure if this were the appropriate place. Needless to say, he read my mind.

"There's something else I've been meaning to ask you about regarding Andrea," he said, "but I think we should speak somewhere more private."

I nodded and quickly paid the bill, sending Roy a text that I would be downstairs shortly. Once in the town car, I pressed the button to raise the privacy glass and turned to Nigel.

"Andrea is leaving _Runway. _I am trying to find her a position elsewhere—it looks like _The New York Mirror_ has a promising position of managing editor that John may offer her," I said, softly playing with my hands in my lap.

"Are you two—?" Nigel asked.

"No. Well, yes, maybe. I don't know," I said, sinking back into the seat. "Andrea has somehow become my best friend in the past few months. I trust her like no one else, and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her. It's relaxing," I said, chuckling to myself. "Would you ever think I enjoyed sharing a meal or just mindlessly chit-chatting with someone?"

Nigel smiled. "Miranda, I'm happy for you. I don't mean to bring up old memories, but I remember you like that before the girls were born. Remember our afternoon meetings that somehow turned into coffee breaks where we would gossip for an hour? I can see some of that same brightness in your eyes now as you had back then," he said.

I smiled and turned my head to look at him. "I do remember that. I don't ever know if I've thanked you for being my friend all these years—from covering for me during my pregnancy to bringing me back to reality when my mother died," I said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer, kissing me softly on my cheek near my lips. "Mira, you're like family to me, I love you," he said. "I know we've had our ups and downs, but I'm always here."

I sniffled, wiping my tears from my eyes. "And I love you, too, Nigel. It's weird, but you've always been like my a big sister to me."

"Ha!" Nigel laughed, "I'm honored, sis."

"Can I tell you something, sister-to-sister?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Cross my heart, hope to die—I won't tell a soul," he said with a smile.

"I think I'm in love with Andrea."

"Oh sweetie," he said, tightening his arms around me, "I think you are, too. And I think you have been since you hired her."

"Was it that obvious?" I asked, suddenly pulling away. I had tried so hard to keep that private, the thought of others knowing of my feelings for Andrea suddenly made me nauseous. The last thing I wanted was to have her pristine reputation trashed in the headlines.

"No, no. It was little things, very subtle. But Mira, I know you better than anyone else, so I see what others don't."

I relaxed and took a few deep breaths.

"Have you two talked about it?" he asked.

"Not really. I mean, she was going through a lot with her grandmother, and then I opened up to her about the girls, and I think neither of us wanted to say anything," I said.

"Look, I don't mean to be a Debbie Downer here, but are you sure she feels that way?" he asked.

I smiled, thinking back to Andrea's lips pressed against mine, begging to kiss me again. "Yes," I said, "I'm sure. She was rather disappointed when my morals kicked in."

Nigel snickered, "Please don't tell me anymore. For her last few weeks at _Runway_, I really want to be able to keep a straight face around her," he said.

I softly punched him in the arm. "You better!" I warned.

Just then, the car pulled up at Nigel's apartment. "Well, this is my stop," he said. "Thanks for this afternoon, really. I've kind of missed you. I know you have Andrea now, but..."

"Yes, this was lovely, Nigel," I said. "And I would like very much to see you more often like this, outside of work."

He smiled and we exchanged goodbyes as he stepped out of the car. I summoned my courage and called Andrea.

"Hi Miranda," she answered.

"Hello," I said. "How are you?"

"Fine, I'm just at the grocery store, actually," she said.

"Oh, well, I'll make it quick. Would you like to come over this evening? Either for dinner, or afterwards?"

"I actually have some chicken in the slow-cooker right now, but I'd love to come by after. Or, would you like me to bring dinner?" she asked.

"No, no, that's too much trouble. But I would love to see you later," I said.

"Is 7:30PM okay?"

"Sounds wonderful, see you later," I said.

"Bye," she replied, ending the call.

That afternoon, I opened the patio doors and let some fresh air into the house. It was an unusually mild afternoon in late March, and the warm breeze smelled like spring. I wrapped a soft pashmina around my shoulders and curled up in the chair just in front of the patio door while Patricia sat at my feet, clearly enjoying the fresh air, too. I spent several hours reading Bill O'Reilly's latest bestseller before getting up and making myself a light salad. As the sky darkened, I shut the patio doors and walked through the house, turning on the lights.

Actually, I think I was nervous for Andrea's visit. Of course, I wanted to see her, but I also knew I couldn't let things get out of hand. Sighing, I glanced at the clock. Andrea would be over in less than an hour, but I needed to occupy my mind. Pulling out my phone, I called Leslie to check on the status of the divorce.

"Miranda, I was planning to call you tomorrow morning. I have good news for you," she said.

"Really?" I rarely heard "good news" come from my attorney's mouth.

"Yes, the judge has granted you a separation, and after speaking with Stephen's attorney, it sounds like he doesn't plan to contest the prenup or file for custody," she said.

"My god, you mean, he could have?" I asked. It hadn't even crossed my mind that he would try to take my girls from me.

"Well, technically, yes. But I only mention that because in the past, that has been what delayed your proceedings," she said. "I see this divorce being finalized in as little as six weeks."

"You're kidding," I said.

"No, I hope that's good news," Leslie said.

"Yes, very. I'm just surprised."

"I do have to ask you one thing, Miranda," she said, hesitating. "Are you seeing anyone else? I just want to be prepared if anything leaks."

"I understand," I replied. "Currently, I am not, though I have grown quite close with my friend Andrea Sachs and have been spending a considerable amount of time with her."

"Do you anticipate this developing into something else?" Leslie asked.

"Yes," I said, "but we have been waiting. She currently works at _Runway, _so I'm waiting for her to move to her new position as well."

"Okay, that's all I need to know. Just for your information, now that you're separated, Stephen can't use it against you unless he can prove prior involvement," she added.

I took a deep breath, recalling the arguments Stephen and I had over the young brunette. "He accused me of being obsessed with her at one point—which was simply untrue—but I did speak of her often at home as I was getting to know her."

"That sounds fine," Leslie said. "As long as I don't need to expect any sex tapes or inappropriate emails, I think you're good."

"No, definitely not," I said. "But thank you, Leslie."

"Not a problem. I'll send the separation papers over tomorrow, but in the meantime, take care."

"You too," I said, hanging up the phone. My heart began racing. _As long as no one at Runway finds out…_ I thought to myself.

Several minutes later, Andrea arrived, the doorbell jolting me from my thoughts.

"Hello, darling," I said, opening the door and letting the brunette in. She was dressed casually in lycra-blend athletic pants and a few layered cotton tops, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Miranda," she said, stepping inside and briefly hugging me as she handed me a bottle of sparkling wine. "You—you look gorgeous. I'm sorry I'm so underdressed."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, closing the door behind her. "I had brunch with Nigel and didn't have a chance to change," I said, leading her into the den. "Have a seat while I find some glasses," I added, strolling off into the kitchen.

"Thank you," she said, taking the glass of wine from me as I sat next to her on the couch.

"How has your weekend been?" I asked. I hadn't seen her since Friday afternoon, and it felt like an eternity.

"Well, it was good. I was up late Friday night working on my resume. Then, my mother called early Saturday morning to tell me that she was taking my grandpa to see a therapist this week, and then she said, 'oh, by the way, happy belated birthday.' I thanked her and told her I had to go. I don't even want to deal with that," Andrea said.

"Darling, I don't really want to make a habit of comparing myself to your mother, but give her time. When my mother died, I locked myself in my bedroom upstairs for two weeks. Stephen didn't care, he just slept in the guest room. Nigel finally showed up one day and picked the lock, and he had to carry me into the shower because I was too weak to stand. During that whole time, I never once thought of what it must feel like for my daughters to lose their grandmother, because I was selfishly focused on myself and how her death was affecting me and my life," I said.

"Wow," she said. "You said you took it bad, but I had no idea."

"Yes, well, Nigel and I have been through a lot together," I said. I sipped my wine as my eyes raked over the beautiful woman next to me. Even so casually dressed, her beauty was undeniable.

We turned the television on and watched some shows in companionable silence, sharing observations here and there. As much as I enjoyed our silence, I couldn't help but think of her arms around me, her lips pressed to my skin.

"Miranda?" she called, setting her glass on the table. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry," I said, pushing my thoughts aside.

"I asked if you had heard any news about the divorce."

"Actually, I got off the phone with Leslie just before you arrived," I said. I wasn't sure just how much I wanted to share with her, fearing that she would try to push things too quickly if she knew the details. "She thinks there is a good chance the divorce will be finalized in the next two months," I added.

"Wow, that's great. Probably good for the girls, too," she said.

It hadn't crossed my mind, but of course, Andrea was right. This was excellent news. As long as Stephen didn't try to contest anything, it would stay out of the papers and I could convince my girls to move back home. "Yes, very much so," I said.

She shifted positions and gently began massaging her leg. I was curious—worried, actually—but didn't want to push her. It looked as if she was wincing in pain, though.

"Andrea, I think you need to make sure that you submit a resignation letter first thing Monday morning—to both me and to human resources," I said.

"Okay," she said, "I actually worked on that last night."

"Excellent," I said, nodding. "I think it is in our best interest if I act surprised and perhaps a little annoyed when you hand it in. Do you understand?" I moved closer to her on the couch and gently picked up her hands.

She nodded, looking down at the ground. I reached up and cupped her cheek, gently pressing my lips to hers. I pulled back and rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. "We have to wait until you have a new job," I said.

"I know," she replied, slowly pulling away and standing up. "I should probably go home right now—even though I don't want to."

I shrugged apologetically—_couldn't she see how I wished this weren't the situation either? _I stood. "Here, let me follow you out, I have something else for you," I said. I went to grab my handbag in the kitchen and pulled out my checkbook, quickly scribbling on the paper and handing it to Andrea. "Here, until things are settled with the new job and new place," I said.

"Miranda, I can't accept this! $5,000?! That's too much," she said, handing the check back.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but that's just pennies to me. Think of it as a birthday present or something."

"I—I can't take money from you, Miranda. That's not why I choose to spend time with you," she said, her eyes welling with tears.

"Okay, no tears today," I said, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "I know you're not after my money. But I have it, and if sharing even a little with you can make your life a little bit easier and less stressful, you know I will do it in a heartbeat. It's about taking care of the ones you…the ones you care about," I said.

She nodded and tucked the check safely away in her wallet. "Thank you," she said. "So, I'll, uh, see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, darling," I said, "have a good night." I fought the urge to invite her to stay the night, desperately wanting her in my bed again. Knowing I wouldn't be able to resist, I saw her out the door.

TBC


	15. Part 3 Chapter 4

Part 3, Chapter 4

The next week was the closest thing to torture I had ever experienced in my life. Andrea turned in her resignation, citing April 16th as her last day. I was relieved to find I would only need to work with her for two more weeks. I kept Emily busy finding me a new second assistant, telling her I wanted someone as responsible and dedicated as Andrea, but with enough sense not to leave a position at _Runway. _For the most part, Andrea steered clear of me, and even gave the book delivery privileges back to Emily.

"Will I still see you tomorrow?" I asked Andrea quietly. It was lat Friday afternoon and we were making last-minute changes to the issue going to print that evening. Most of the staff was either occupied in the art department or working in the conference room down the hall, so I took my opportunity to speak to Andrea for the first time this week. Tomorrow, I would be taking my daughters to the Orchid Show and I could feel my anxiety about the day suddenly reappearing.

"Oh shit. Yes, of course—I almost forgot!" she said. "I'll come find you around 11:30, does that work?"

I nodded. "Will you know where we are? Should I text you?" I asked.

"No need. Part of my training this past year included learning to sense your presence in a room of any size," she said with a smile. "I'll find you." I smiled back.

I slowly stood up. My body felt weighted. "Don't worry, it will work out," she said, "trust me." I don't think she knew just how much I really did.

On Saturday, I woke with a nervous stomach, a reminder of my anxiety. I took a hot shower and changed into a pair of Versace floral print cropped pants with a simple white v-neck top. I was ready to leave by 9AM, but of course, had to wait an hour and a half. I read through the papers, trying to kill time. Finally, I just grabbed the car keys and left, telling myself I would drive slowly.

I arrived at James' house ten minutes early, and took my time parking and walking up the stairs. "Miranda, come on in, they're still getting ready," he said as he opened the door. I nodded and followed him inside. "You really look great," he said, taking in my appearance. "It's been—what—twelve, maybe fourteen months since I've last seen you?"

"Probably," I said, shaking my head. Roy was the one who drove the girls everywhere, and because of that, I never saw James when they would spend the weekends with him. "How have you been?" I asked.

He turned and looked at me quizzically. "You are not one to make small talk, Miranda. What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, fumbling with the buttons on my coat. "People change."

"Miranda, are you seeing someone already?" he asked.

"What? No. I told you, the divorce isn't finalized yet," I said.

"Yeah, well that never stopped you before," he said with a wistful look in his eye.

"James, I'm a different person now. You must know that," I said. "I really treated you horribly back then, and I think you were the only one who really ever loved me," I said, pursing my lips to keep from crying.

"Come here," he said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me to his chest. "It's in the past. I was wrong to bring it up. I think the girls really need you now."

"I hope so," I said, taking a few deep breaths.

"Can I just ask what brought this on? I'm just curious," he said, "why _now_ and not a year ago, or in two months? What changed?"

"My friend's grandmother just passed, and she has been very emotional, specifically regarding her mother, who has rather selfishly retreated and forgotten about her. That just hit home for me, you know. I didn't even think to console the girls when they lost their grandmother. And I know it's been nearly five years, but I don't want my daughters to have any reason to think I don't love them," I said.

"We don't think that," Cassidy said from the stairwell.

"Yeah, we don't, Mom. We know you're just busy, and have a lot of important things to do," Caroline added.

I bit my lip and turned around, bending down to hug them both. "My darlings," I said, "I am busy, but never too busy for you, okay? I never want you to think that anything is ever more important than you. I will drop everything I'm doing for you two, okay?" They nodded. "Let's go see some orchids," I said, standing up and heading for the door.

"Take pictures for me," James said, waving out the front door.

"You drive, Mom?" Cassidy said as I unlocked the car doors.

"Of course I do," I said, "why would you ask me that?"

"Well, I've never seen you do it. Roy takes us everywhere," Cassidy replied.

I turned around to face them both in the backseat. "I want you to keep asking questions, okay? I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you as much as I should have, but I want to do my best to make up for that, okay?"

They both nodded and I took off, heading back to the townhouse. "Do you need anything from inside?" I asked as I turned into my parking garage. They shook their heads, so we exited through the garage and began walking through the park.

"Mom, do you live by yourself in that big house?" Caroline asked.

"Yes," I said, "I do now. When you two aren't with me, I'm by myself—well, just me and Patricia."

"So did Stephen move out?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "We really didn't love each other anymore, and well, we're getting a divorce."

"Dad said that was why we were living with him."

"Do you love someone else now?" Cassidy chimed in.

"Your father is right. I have been concerned about reporters after the divorce, but I think everything is okay. And darling, I love lots of people. I love you and your sister, I love your uncle Dennis and his son Spencer. I love uncle Nigel, and part of me still loves your dad because he gave me you two," I said, hoping that would divert this game of twenty questions.

"I mean, like _love _love," Cassidy said.

"Yeah, like a boyfriend or girlfriend," Caroline said.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at them. "The answer is no, because the judge hasn't finalized my divorce yet, but why on earth would you ask that?"

"You said we could ask anything!" Cassidy said in her defense.

"Yes, Bobbsey, of course I did, but why ask if I had a _girlfriend_?" I said, looking at Caroline.

"I, uh, I'm sorry Mom," she said wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my coat. I bent down and wiped her eyes with a tissue. I told myself that I needed to relax and go easier on them—I was certainly not here to make my daughters cry. "Dad was on the phone in his office, and I heard him say your name. I thought maybe you were calling to talk to us so I stood at the door, listening. I don't know who he was talking to, but he said, 'I wouldn't be surprised if she had a girlfriend.' I'm sorry, Mom. I know we're not supposed to eavesdrop," she said.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay," I said. "I don't know who your daddy was talking to, but I'm sure you just misunderstood the conversation," I added. "Come on, let's get going."

As we approached the Botanical Gardens, there were crowds of people outside, waiting to get in. "Aw man, I hate waiting in lines!" Cassidy said.

"Bobbsey, be patient. I'm sure this is moving quickly," I said.

A young man standing in front of me turned around. "Hate to break it to you, but we haven't moved from this spot for thirty minutes," he said.

"Oh this is absurd!" I said, quickly pulling out my blackberry and dialing a number.

"George? Yes, hello, it's Miranda. How are you?…Oh, I'm doing well. Actually, I have a favor to ask. I'm out here in the park with my daughters today and we were hoping to see the orchids, but the lines are tremendously long…uh-huh…um, we're about 300' directly to the south of the entrance…thank you so much…yes, I will…oh, and I'm not sure if you saw my email earlier in the week, but will Thursday evening work?…yes, just two…oh, that's marvelous. Thank you, George. See you soon!" I ended the call and slipped my phone into my bag, only to be met with twin sets of eyes staring at me in disbelief.

"Are. You. Serious!?" Cassidy squealed. "You just make a call and we get to cut the line?"

"Cassidy, keep your voice down," I said. "I volunteer with the Gardens and serve on several of their committees. George is the president and he works in the Gardens every day. He's sending someone to come get us," I whispered.

Sure enough, a young man with a "NYBG STAFF" shirt on drove a golf cart up to meet us. "Miss Priestly?" he asked. I nodded. "Mr. Stanslos sent me to pick you up, so hop in."

"Girls, please buckle up," I said as they ran to the back seat. I rode up front with the driver.

"Hold on," he said as he put the cart in drive and took off, driving around the crowds to a rear entrance. He pulled up to a gate and punched in a code, which opened the gate and allowed us to drive through. "The entrance is really crowded right now because they have some tables setup to sign up to win an orchid or something. Would you ladies like me to take you up front or do you want to start in pavilion three?"

"Three is fine," I said. "Some of the most beautiful orchids in the world are here in pavilion three."

When he pulled the cart to a stop, he helped the girls out and handed me his card. "I'm Matt, and I'd be happy to assist you or your family at any time during the show, Miss Priestly."

"Thank you, Matt," I said, keeping an eye on my girls who were starting to wander off ahead. "Call me Miranda. Will you be working Thursday evening?"

"Yes, Mis—Miranda," he said. "As you know, pavilion three is closed in the evenings, though."

"Would you be able to arrange for my friend and I to have a private showing? We wouldn't need anything special, just the pathway lights," I said.

"I'm sure I can work something out," Matt said. "Call me during the day just to remind me."

"Thank you so much, I will," I said, slipping the card into my pocket and running off after my girls.

I was surprised at how easy conversation was with them, but then again, I wasn't. Children were much more forgiving than adults would ever be.

Several hours later, as we were heading for the exit, I realized we hadn't seen Andrea. I quickly sent her a message: "Are you here? Haven't seen you."

She replied immediately: "I was following you guys for a while, but it didn't seem like you needed me. Everything OK?"

My heart began beating more quickly at the thought of her begin near to us but not saying hello. I wrote back: "I do need you, I need you with every bone in my body… are you still nearby? Join us for lunch?"

She replied: "Yes. Just outside exit to the right."

I quickly caught up to my girls and asked them where they would like to go for lunch. Cassidy, apparently refused to eat anything with eyes, so our options were rather limited, but I was thinking Oliver's cafe down the street would work. As we stepped outside, I saw Andrea start walking over to us.

"Girls, wait a minute," I said, stopping to meet Andrea and exchange air kisses. "You remember Andrea, don't you?" I asked them. They shook their heads, and Caroline stuck out her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Andrea. I'm Caroline," she said.

"And I'm Cassidy," she said, also extending her hand. I was quite impressed at my daughters' manners.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you," Andrea said. "I work for your Mom at the magazine. You probably don't remember, but I met you at the train station a few months ago and gave you the new Harry Potter book," she said, beaming.

"Oh! You're Andy!" Caroline said. "I remember Stephen telling us who you were."

My eyes grew wide. _What did Stephen tell them about Andrea?_ I wondered. "Yes, well," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from my soon-to-be ex-husband, "Andrea has been working for me for a while now, and just yesterday she told me she's going to be leaving us soon and looking for another job."

"Why would you want to leave _Runway_?" Caroline asked.

"Well," Andrea said, obviously flustered at the change of conversation. "When I moved to New York, my dream was to be a writer—a journalist for a newspaper. Unfortunately, I didn't really know anything about the publishing business in New York, since I came from a small town in Ohio. I took this job as your mom's assistant, and I've learned so much, I think I'm ready to keep following my dream," she said, nervously glancing over at me.

"Whoa, that is so cool," Cassidy said. "I want to be a writer, too!"

"No way, awesome!" Andrea said.

"And I want to be Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis," Caroline said.

"You want to marry a politician, get photographed a lot, then marry an old, rich Greek guy? Awesome!" Andrea said.

Both girls started giggling and I hit Andrea in the arm. "Really? Was it necessary to put that image in my daughters' brains?"

"Hey," she said, laughing, "I'm just telling it how it is. That's what reporters do, right?"

"Yup," Cassidy said, taking her side. "Andy, do you eat meat?" she asked.

Andrea quickly glanced at me, then back to Cassidy. "You know, I do," she said. "But I have a lot of friends who don't because they think it's cruel to the animals. So I tried to learn as much as I could about the ways animals are treated on farms and stuff, and I try to only eat meats that come from farms where people take good care of the animals and keep them clean and happy. There are a lot of local farms that are really well-known for that," she said.

"Really?" Cassidy asked, "Why wouldn't you just not eat the meat?"

"Well, meats have a lot of protein and amino acids that your body needs, and fish like salmon have healthy omega-3s that can keep things like cholesterol down, but also make your hair and nails shiny and strong," Andrea said. "Do you eat meat?"

"We saw this documentary in school two months ago, and ever since then, I didn't want to eat any meat. But I guess what you do makes sense, too," she said.

"If you want, I can send your mom some websites that you can read through and research it further," Andrea suggested.

"Yeah, that would be awesome, thanks!"

"You bet," she said.

"Andrea," I said, "have you eaten lunch yet?"

"No," she said.

"Would you be interested in joining us?" I asked, seeing both of my daughters nodding enthusiastically.

She smiled broadly. "It's hard enough saying no to _one_ Priestly woman, so I surely can't resist _three_," she said, giggling.

"Then it's settled," I said. "What do you think about Oliver's?"

"I think they have the best tomato soup in New York," Andrea said.

"Let's go!" the girls shouted.

An hour later, we were all walking home to the townhouse, sufficiently fed. The girls loved Andrea, and she was perfect with them, though I really expected nothing less. "Well, I need to take you two back to your father's so you can get ready for the game tonight," I said.

"Aww, Mom, will we get to see Andy again?" Caroline asked.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask her," I said. Caroline turned her puppy-dog eyes on Andrea and melted her heart.

"Of course," Andrea said, bending down and hugging my daughters. "But I should be going now. It was great to hang out with you two today," she added as we had reached my garage.

"Girls, get in the car. I need to talk to Andrea for a minute," I said, pressing the button to open the garage door and unlock the car. "Thank you, Andrea," I said, "Will you wait for me in the house? I won't be gone more than twenty minutes," I said.

Andrea nodded and gave me a quick hug before heading down the street to the front door.

"Okay," I said, getting into the car and pulling out of my garage, "I had a lovely time today, did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, I had no idea there were so many orchids. And Andy is really cool," Cassidy said.

"Good, I'm glad you liked it. I really want to see you two again soon, even if it's just coming back to our house for lunch or something, would that be okay?"

"Yeah," Caroline said, "But we can't tomorrow because our class is going to see a play."

"Oh that sounds nice," I said. We rode in silence for a few more minutes. "I meant what I said earlier—that I want you girls to call me if you need anything, day or night, whether I'm at work or at home, okay? Or even if you don't need something but just want to say hi. I will try to be better about calling, but I want you to feel comfortable calling, too, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks Mom."

We pulled up to James' house and I put the car in park. I turned around and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek before they left, running up the stairs. I quickly waved to James before driving away and speeding home. I parked the car in the garage and walked inside, eagerly in search of Andrea.

TBC


	16. Part 3 Chapter 5

Part 3, Chapter 5

Returning to my house, I found Andrea asleep on the couch in the den, I didn't want to wake her, so I simply draped a blanket over her and curled up on the opposite couch to read through my email. I apparently had not checked my mail at all today, since I had several unread messages. George had finally replied to my email telling me there would be two tickets for Thursday evening at the front desk, and Nigel had sent the final changes to the rockstud layout.

Andrea was still asleep, so I crept into the kitchen and began making a pot of herbal tea. I didn't catch the kettle in time to stop the shrill whistling, unfortunately, so I waited a few minutes while the tea steeped, then poured two cups and carried them into the den.

"Andrea," I whispered, softly shaking her shoulder.

"Mmm, Miranda," she said, sitting up and opening her eyes.

"Thank you for being so good with my daughters today," I said. "It was actually going fine before we met up with you, but I loved watching their eyes light up as they talked to you, seeing them laugh and really have a good time. So thank you for giving me that," I said.

"Miranda, I'm happy to. Your daughters are so bright and inquisitive, it's really my pleasure," she said.

"Sweetheart, you look exhausted. Why don't you relax and then maybe we can watch something later on TV?"

"Okay," Andrea said. "Would you mind if I took a bath upstairs?" she asked.

"No, not at all. Everything is up there. There's even a bottle of scotch under the sink. I just ask that you use the acrylic glasses in the bathroom," I said. "If you want your tea or wine or anything, please, help yourself."

"Thanks," Andrea said. "I'd actually love some white wine, but I don't know where you keep it."

"Oh, sorry," I said, jumping up and gesturing for her to follow. "This cabinet," I said, "is a temperature-controlled wine storage. I just opened the Chardonnay a few nights ago—would you like that?"

"Yes, thanks," Andrea said.

"And, acrylic glasses are these on this shelf," I said, pulling down a wine glass and handing her both the bottle and glass. "They still break, but at least they don't shatter," I said. "Enjoy your bath," I called after her as she walked upstairs.

I poured myself a glass of red wine and stretched out on the couch, my anxiety gone after a lovely day with my daughters. I laid like that for nearly an hour, practically finishing the bottle of Merlot. Sitting up, I decided to head to the bedroom to check on Andrea. Knocking on the bathroom door, I called, "Andrea? Are you doing okay?"

"Yes, uh, you can come in," she said.

I slowly pushed the door open and my eyes were immediately taken to her naked form in my bathtub. I could really only see from her chest up, but it drove my mind wild how she had a washcloth draped over the swell of her breasts.

"I meant to ask you, did you have any success?" she asked.

I closed my eyes and turned away, needing to still my thoughts. "Su—success?" I stammered.

"Yes, with finding me a job?" she asked.

"Oh, right. Well, perhaps. It is looking like a managing editor position at the _Mirror_ might be the best fit," I said, facing away from the bathtub. "I'm just going to, uh, wait for you downstairs," I said. "If you need to borrow anything, help yourself." I quickly shut the door and stepped into the safety of my closet, where I traded my floral pants for stretchy black yoga pants and draped a blue DKNY cozy around my shoulders. Downstairs, I poured myself another glass of wine and flicked through the channels, looking for something to watch, anything to distract me from the image of a naked Andrea in my bathtub.

Several minutes later, Andrea came downstairs, dressed in the same clothes she wore earlier. She sat next to me on the couch and rested her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable upstairs," she said.

"No, no, it was fine. I just haven't been thinking straight today," I said, which was true for the most part.

"Miranda," she said, turning to look at me, "I _really _want to kiss you."

I stared at her, my lips slightly parting as I searched for words. Really, what I needed was to get my head together. Even though she had turned in her resignation, that certainly didn't mean I could have my way with my assistant. And even that—I had never been with another woman like this and then there was the business of my husband and daughters.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Andrea asked. She was sitting on the opposite end of the couch and I don't know how much time had passed since her previous remark.

"Yes," I said, smiling as I turned to face her, sitting in my favorite corner cushion. "I was just a little overwhelmed," I admitted.

"It's okay," Andrea said. "I'm sorry I pushed you."

"You didn't," I said, fumbling with the hem of my pants as I tucked my legs underneath me.

"So, what I was asking before you spaced out…would that be okay?" she asked, closing the distance between us. I nodded and closed my eyes while she straddled my hips and pushed me back into the couch, crushing her lips against mine.

I knew it was wrong, that I should be the adult in this situation and keep things professional, but my god. I pulled back just a bit, thinking I would ask her if we should take things a bit more slowly, but instead I let out a throaty moan as my hips bucked involuntarily into hers. She began to trail her lips down my jawline and neck, hungrily licking and devouring my skin.

"Ohhh, Andrea, Andrea, Andrea," I moaned, shaking my head, eyes closed, "What are you doooing to me?"

"Whatever it is, it sounds like you like it," Andrea whispered before taking my earlobe—and 1-carat diamond stud earring—into her mouth.

"No, no, stop," I said, standing up and taking a deep breath. "This cannot happen right now, Andrea. And if you can't respect that I will have to ask you to leave," I said reluctantly.

I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek to the doorframe, trying to focus on my breathing and calm my racing heart. I couldn't think straight. We had both been drinking, and this was not how I imagined our first time together—like teenagers on a couch. My eyes shot open the moment I heard her sniffle.

"Darling, please," I said, walking back towards the couch. "I'm sorry I overreacted, but we have to be logical."

"Don't make me leave," she choked out, pulling her hands up to cover her face. "I promise I won't touch you again," she added.

I sat next to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my chest. "I didn't say that," I whispered into her hair. "I love it when you touch me, but we just need to be careful and move slowly right now. This is as much for you and your career as it is mine," I added.

"Okay," she said, nodding and sitting up, still laying against my chest.

"I've been meaning to ask you," I said, brushing my fingers through her hair, "will you come with me to see the orchids on Thursday evening?"

"You still want to go with me?" she asked.

"Of course, Andrea. I mean, we have to be careful because we will be in public, but that doesn't mean I changed my mind about going." I softly pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise things will be better in a few weeks," I said.

Andrea took a deep breath and stood from the couch. "I know," she said. "I'm looking forward to seeing you Thursday."

On Monday morning, Andrea told me that John had reached out to her for an interview at the _Mirror. _Apparently they were looking for someone to begin on April 26, which would give Andrea one week off before starting her new position. _This was Andrea's last week at Runway_, I thought, suddenly wondering how the time had moved so quickly.

Later that week, Andrea proudly informed me that John had offered her the position and she had accepted. I was so proud of her. I knew she deserved this, and was happy I was able to get her beyond entry-level. She would have to prove herself, that's for sure, but I was confident she was up to the task.

On Wednesday afternoon, I viewed a few properties with my realtor, and one of them was a spacious (1,000 sqft) one-bedroom apartment. Because foreclosures often went to quickly, I had Jonathan submit an offer while I sent Roy back to _Runway _to pick up Andrea.

I sent her a quick text, "Found a perfect apartment, but want you to see it. Roy will meet you downstairs."

Ten minutes later, she arrived. Really, she could have walked, as it was just a few blocks from Elias Clarke. "Miranda," she said, "this is easily three times the size of my current apartment. It's too big."

"Nonsense," I said. "It's a steal. They don't make large one-bedrooms like this in the city. Plus," I added, whispering so Jonathan wouldn't hear, "now there's room for a giant California king bed."

Andrea smiled and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "Miranda?" Jonathan called from the kitchen. "Looks like the bank has accepted your offer, congratulations."

I turned to Andrea and smiled, taking her hands. "Welcome to your new home," I said. "Jonathan, when will closing be?"

"Since you're willing to make it a cash sale, we can close as early as two weeks—so, April 28," he said. "Does that work? I suggest we have an inspection as soon as possible, though."

"Perfect. Andrea, be sure to give your landlord notice, and if he gives you any problems, just let me know," I said.

She nodded, "I—I don't have enough stuff to fill this place."

"You will, darling. I'll arrange to have it cleaned and painted on the 28th, and then we can have furniture delivered on Saturday the 30th." I was already imagining where we would go to find furnishings. The thought of furniture-shopping with Andrea warmed my heart to no end.

TBC


	17. Part 3 Chapter 6

Warning: end of the chapter rated M :)

Part 3, Chapter 6

It was 4:30PM on Thursday. Andrea had one day left at _Runway_, and I knew Emily and Serena were planning a small luncheon in the conference room to celebrate her promotion. I was quite touched how supportive my staff had been when she announced she was taking a position at the _Mirror_. Instead of begrudging her for leaving us, they were confident in her abilities, and generally wished her well. I guess I hadn't realized until now that Andrea was extremely well-liked.

"Andrea," I called.

"Yes, Miranda?" she said, standing in my office.

"Why don't you head home for the evening?" I said. "Roy will pick you up at 7:15," I said. "Oh, and, this is for you," I added, handing her a garment bag that was draped across the chair in front of my desk.

"Miranda, thank you," she said, graciously accepting the bag. "Should I—tonight?"

I nodded. "That's all," I said, walking back behind my desk.

Andrea quickly closed her computer and headed out the door. I, too, needed to head out soon. Before I forgot, I quickly called the young man at the Botanical Gardens to ensure everything was in order tonight. He instructed me to meet him inside the entrance, off to the right, at 7:30 and he would have everything ready.

Back at her apartment, Andrea hung the garment bag and carefully unzipped it, gasping at the Versace red lace minidress. It was a crew neck, long-sleeve fitted top—very lacy and very see-through. The skirt was puffy and very short. Also enclosed was a pair of red lace boy shorts and a new pair of nude-colored Louboutins. Andrea sighed, stepping into the shower to get ready for her date.

On the other side of town, I carefully stepped into my own dress, a white shift dress with an open back and small closure at the top. It hit just above my knee, and I wore it with a straw belt and my new Charlotte Olympia straw wedges I purchased at Bergdorfs. It was a warm, balmy day, and my throat was already dry imagining Andrea in her dress when I knew she wouldn't arrive for another thirty minutes.

I watched out the window, eager for Roy to show up. I didn't want Andrea to come inside just yet—we needed to arrive on time to meet Matt. Seeing the town car, I hurried out of the house and into the backseat, instructing Roy where to drop us as my eyes devoured my date. I knew the dress I selected was short, but I hadn't realized that with her long legs and nude heels lengthening her leg, it looked almost scandalous. Through the lace, I could see the shadows under her perfect breasts.

She wore perfect Lancome red lipstick and had her hair tied back in a slick pony. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but let out a moan as she parted her lips to speak. I wanted that lipstick smeared across my body.

"Are you okay?" Andrea repeated.

"Andrea, you are breathtaking," I said, looking up into her eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," she added with a grin.

"I am a little anxious," I admitted. "I have something special planned, but we need to arrive by 7:30," I said.

"Okay," she said, smiling. She reached over and took my hand in hers, keeping me grounded until we arrived.

It was already crowded, and I instructed Andrea to follow me, hurrying to the right of the entrance to find Matt.

"Miranda," he said, walking up to us, "follow me."

I turned back to look at Andrea who shrugged and tagged along. He took us straight to the back service entrance and we walked through a narrow tunnel that opened into pavilion three. It was mostly dark, except for the spotlights on the various trees and flowers and dim twinkling lights marking the walking path. Tchaikovsky played lightly over the speakers.

"Did you select that?" I asked.

"No, it's on in the main pavilion, but the crowd is drowning it out," he said. "You have two hours, but then I need to make sure you're back in the main pavilion, as the groundskeeper comes by just before 10."

"Not a problem," I said, slipping him a small envelope with a considerable amount of cash. "We will be out by then—oh, and you didn't see us here."

He nodded and headed out, leaving me to turn to Andrea, who was already engrossed in the plants. "Darling," I said, slowly walking up to her and slipping my hand in hers. "I hope you enjoy this."

"Thank you, this is perfect," she said, squeezing my hand and tugging me along the path. I was in awe of this intriguing young woman, leading me through the darkness, stopping to point out rare varieties of orchids she had only read about. After about an hour, we reached a small area I hadn't noticed the other day when I was here with the girls. Andrea led me inside this rainforest-like area where a few lanterns hung from the tree limbs. "These that grow on trees like this are called epiphytes_,_" she said.

"Beautiful," I said. Before she turned to lead us out of this area, I gently tugged on her hand, pulling her closer and wrapping my arms around her waist. Even with my wedges, she was several inches taller than me.

She slipped her fingers under my chin, tilting it upwards until our eyes met. "Can I—?" she asked.

I quickly nodded and closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around her neck as she kissed my lips. It was slow passionate, her lips tenderly caressing my own. My hands began roaming across her body, her back, her arms, her torso.

She inhaled sharply as my hands cupped her breasts, arching her back into my touch. I leaned forward and began sucking on her nipple through the lace fabric of the dress, feeling it harden beneath my tongue.

"Oh god, Mirandaaaa," she cried as I pressed her back into a tree, careful not to damage any of the epiphytes. "Shouldn't we—waaait?" she moaned, throwing her head back against the tree.

I shook my head and returned my attention to her lips as she tugged me closer, my entire body pressing against hers. "Wait, what time is it?" I asked, suddenly pushing myself away from her.

She groaned at the loss of contact, but efficiently pulled her phone from her bag and showed me the screen: 9:25PM.

"We need to get out of here," I whispered. I reached over and adjusted some of her smeared lipstick before tugging her out towards the passageway back to the main pavilion. Matt was there, waiting, apparently, and he quickly escorted us through. The crowd had died down considerably, so we easily made it out to the front door where Roy was waiting with the car.

I climbed in and Andrea followed. I smiled as I noticed Roy already had the privacy glass up. Once the door shut, Andrea straddled me and pushed me back against the cool leather. "I need you," she whispered, lacing her fingers through my hair as she suckled on my neck. I felt her grinding her hips into my lower abdomen. Even through the fabric I could feel the heat coming from her core. I ran my hands up and down her long, lean thighs before I gently began kneading her firm cheeks.

I noticed the car had stopped moving and softly tapped Andrea's rear before pushing her away. "Come inside?" I asked, locking eyes with the brunette.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, a grin creeping across her face.

She followed me up the stairs into the townhouse. After turning on the security alarm, I led her upstairs to my bedroom where I swiftly kicked off my wedges and removed my belt.

"Hey," she said, wrapping her arms around me. "There's no rush, okay? No need to hurry," she whispered, gently kissing the nape of my neck. "I'm not going anywhere."

I smiled and turned to face her, standing on my tiptoes to bring my lips to her ear. "Make love to me," I whispered, letting my tongue graze the outer shell of her ear before I laid my head against her chest.

Andrea reached around and unbuttoned the closure at the top of my dress, slowly peeling it down my shoulders before pushing it to the floor in a pile around my feet. I instinctively wrapped my right arm across my exposed breasts, wrapping my other arm across my midsection. She stepped out of her heels and unzipped her dress, slipping it over her head and tossing it onto the nearby chair. Slowly, she slid her lacy red underwear to the ground.

Slipping her finger under my chin, she tilted my head up. "Are you doing okay?" I nodded and she softly kissed my lips before looping her fingers in my panties and sliding them to the ground. I placed my left hand on her shoulder, steadying myself as I stepped out of the legs. She lifted the panties to her face and inhaled, moaning before she tossed them aside.

I held my breath as she ran her hands up and down my bare legs, lightly peppering kisses along my inner thighs. I was nearly delirious with arousal, and I could feel my wetness dripping down my legs. My right leg began to tremble, and before I knew what was happening, I was laying on my stomach on the bed, with Andrea sitting next to me, gently massaging my back.

She softly nudged me to turn over, and I obeyed, keeping my arm tightly across my breasts. "I want to see you," she whispered, softly coaxing my hand away from my chest. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes. I felt her fingers softly caress me, and I gasped as her thumb swept across my aching nipple.

"Miranda," she whispered, "open your eyes." Slowly, I did. I was surprised to find that she was hovering above me, her lips inches from mine. I stretched upwards to claim her lips, wrapping my arms tightly around her as she pressed her body to mine.

Between kisses, I hissed at the incredibly arousing feeling of her breasts against mine, my slick hair against her bare skin. We explored each other, reveling in the new experience, until she pulled away and began crawling down my body, leaving a trail of kisses behind. "You…are…so…beautiful…your skin…so perfect…" she said between kisses.

She paused, her lips inches from my dripping folds. "Is this okay?" she asked.

A chill coursed through my body as her hot breath on my sensitive skin sent my body into overdrive. "Yes, oh, please," I panted, unashamed that I was now bucking my hips into her face.

I felt fireworks shooting through my body as she pressed her lips to my core. I could hardly tell whether she was licking, sucking, kissing, or using her fingers, but somehow it didn't matter. Andrea Elizabeth Sachs was bringing me to shattering orgasm over and over while I sobbed and babbled incoherently.

I woke to find myself in Andrea's arms, my head resting on her breast. I tried to sit up, only to find that her legs and arms were wrapped tightly around me. Smiling, I kissed her breast and snuggled against her sleeping form.

"Andrea Elizabeth," I whispered, "I have been dreaming about this since the day you walked into my life. I love you," I said, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

TBC in part 4

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's followed, favorite'd, and left reviews! I am still working on fixing up part 4, but I've got a big non-work project to support an arts education program coming up this week that will take up nearly all of my time. I promise you it will be finished soon :) xoxo


	18. Pt 4 - Mother of the year

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the follows/reviews/favorites! I plan to have a new chapter up every day this week, so stay tuned. As always, reviews/comments are always welcome! xo

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PART FOUR: Mother of the Year

Chapter 1

I woke several hours later, shortly before my alarm was to go off. It was an inconvenient habit, though waking up naturally was apparently better for you somehow. This morning, I have the wonderful pleasure of waking up in the arms of a beautiful woman, something I honestly never thought I would say.

I gazed up at her, softly tracing my fingertips along her stomach. It seemed as if she had put on some weight, though I still thought her a bit too thin. I rested my head again on the soft skin of her chest and watched the way her breasts moved up and down ever so slightly as she inhaled. I knew my alarm would break her slumber in minutes anyway, so I took the chance and pressed my lips to her full breast.

Her skin was smooth and silky, and she tasted divine. I wanted so badly to pleasure her as she did me last night, but to be honest, I was nervous. Taking her nipple into my mouth, I moaned quietly at the feeling as her skin pebbled and hardened under my tongue.

Soon, I felt her fingers softly running through my hair. She untwined our legs and arched into my mouth as I moved to straddle her body.

"Good morning," I said, although I was surprised that my voice sounded more like a purr. She smiled, and just as I was about to move to her other breast, she pulled me up to her and kissed me…hard.

I was sure my lips would be bruised as she devoured my mouth, but I didn't care. She finally broke the kiss and looked up at me, though I could hardly seem to focus on anything at the moment. "Good morning, Miranda," she said with a sly grin.

"Andrea, I—" I began to say, but she gently pressed a finger to my lips, effectively stopping my words and interrupting my train of thought as I took her fingertip in my mouth.

"I have to go home and get ready," she said, slowly sliding out from underneath me.

"You can get ready here," I said, turning to my side. "It's not like we haven't walked in together before." It was simply more logical. I had everything she could need, and I certainly had enough clothes to choose from, now that she was closer to my size.

Andrea smiled and climbed out of bed and looked at me with this ridiculous grin. Shaking her head, she reached for my hand and tugged me to my feet. I was a little surprised at how unselfconscious I was around her, though I guess our intimacy had been developing long before we shed our clothes. She led me into the bathroom in front of the mirror and stood behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Look at yourself," she said.

I did, or at least attempted to. I was quite distracted by her beautiful smile over my shoulder and the way her arms held me close, pressing my back into her breasts.

"No," she said, seeing that I was gazing at her. "Look at your face."

I felt a sudden fear in the pit of my stomach. I know it was vain of me, but was something wrong with my face? Did I have a bruise or a black eye? Crow's feet? My eyes opened wide and I quickly took my own visage in, pausing. Everything was in order, but I did look…well, _different_. I practically analyzed models' faces for a living, yet today, I could not understand what I saw in my own.

"Miranda," Andrea whispered, her hot breath against my ear, "you're lit from within—you're glowing."

She began trailing kisses down my neck, but I still stared at my reflection. My cheeks did look a bit pinker, but it was my eyes—they were brighter somehow. I arched my neck and hissed as she gently bit my collarbone, unable to break gaze with my image in the mirror.

"Miranda," she said, holding me tightly and resting her chin on my shoulder, "you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Just when I didn't think there could be anything more beautiful, I wake up to you, today, radiant."

I turned to look at her directly, as it was odd talking to her reflection in the mirror. "So, I take it this is the 'I just had the best orgasm of my life' look?" I teased.

Andrea giggled, "Yes, I think so," she said, leaning in to tenderly kiss my lips. "Was it really the _best_?" she asked.

"Yes, I've never…_yes_," I said, leaning forward to kiss her lips again. I would never tire of the simple act of kissing Andrea.

"Thank you for letting me in," Andrea said .

"Well, thank _you_ for pushing."

"What do you mean?" she asked, gently wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Darling, I've wanted you since the day I met you on the street," I said, shyly looking down at the floor. "I would have never…" I let my voice trail off as thoughts of what my life would be like without Andrea pervaded my mind.

She slipped her finger under my chin and brought my gaze back up. "Are you serious?"

"Quite," I said, shrugging and nodding my head. "I had no idea how to handle my emotions, and I still really don't. It's all so new. I was scared, really, that you would find me inappropriate and repulsive and leave or try to sue me or something. That's why I resisted," I confessed.

"Well, I guess it's good that my grandma died when she did," Andrea said, turning the corner of her lip upwards.

"What? Don't say that, Andrea."

"No, really. I mean I think all things happen for a reason. My grandma led me to you," she said.

I could see tears forming in her eyes, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly in a hug. "Darling, we would have found each other eventually," I said. "You know," I added, "I could say that Stephen led me to you that night he showed up drunk at the benefit."

She groaned, "Can we not talk about him? Especially when we're both standing here naked?"

I laughed and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Of course."

"But you know," Andrea said with a smile, "that was when I first, you know, got a crush on you."

My eyes widened just as the alarm started going off in the other room. "You will definitely have to tell me more about that later," I said, running off to silence it. "Now," I said, returning to the bathroom, "we have to be at _Runway _in 40 minutes, or I do anyway." I didn't really care if she showed up late today—it was her last day, and I'm sure she had very little to do anyway, as Emily had taken over practically everything in the past week.

"Would you like some company in the shower?" she asked, batting her eyes. "Saves water, you know."

Images of water running down Andrea's breasts, our slick bodies pressed together flitted across my mind.

Andrea smiled and cupped my cheek. "Okay, maybe later," she said with a wink as if she read my thoughts.

"Andrea, if you recall, you still work for _Runway. _For both of our professional reputations it really is best if no one knows this happened just yet."

Andrea smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "I know. I'll head to the guest room and be ready to go shortly," she said, scampering out of my bathroom.

I shut the bathroom door and started the shower, pressing my head against the cool marble tiles. _What is this woman doing to me_? I thought, subconsciously sliding my hand between my thighs.

Thirty-five minutes later, I headed downstairs to the kitchen where Andrea was waiting with my coffee.

"I took the liberty of scanning the papers this morning. There is a gorgeous photo of you in your Oscar dress at the Orchid Show last night—_alone—_and they actually wrote about your support for the New York Botanical Gardens," she said. "Your 11AM is confirmed with David, and Stacey is confirmed for 2PM to go over the A+O summer eyewear collection, and—"

"Andrea, don't do this," I said, quietly sipping my coffee as I slipped the Book—still untouched—into my bag along with my phone and keys.

"What?" she asked with a look of concern.

"This. Being my assistant. Switching back and forth." I said, gesturing with my hand. It was too much for me to move so quickly from an intimate embrace to a rundown of my schedule. Guilt rose up like bile, a horrid reminder that what I was doing was wrong on many levels.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Would you like me to take a cab separately?

"No!" I said, my response quicker and louder than I anticipated. "I mean, _no_," I corrected myself, adjusting my tone and volume. "Andrea," I sighed, "I want you next to me as a—well, not as an assistant. I just want today to be over," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes.

Andrea stepped closer and slipped her arm around my waist. "Come on," she whispered, taking my bag from me and leading me to the front door.

We rode in silence to Elias Clarke. I had never quite experienced such an intense desire to be touched by another human being as I did with Andrea. It was all a blur: the memory of her skin against mine last night, of holding her close on the airplane home from Paris, of her hand on mine the night of the gala. "Andrea, I—"

"We're here!" she said, quickly jolting me from my thoughts as she exited the car and stepped around to follow me into the building.

Andrea followed me into the elevator, and the minute the doors closed, she pressed my shoulders back against the wall, a sudden gasp falling from my parted lips.

"I was hoping we'd get this elevator," she whispered, her lips dancing across the sensitive skin behind my ear. "The security camera's lens has been smudged for weeks and Joseph said he's not going to fix it," she added as she slowly dragged her tongue across my skin.

"Andrea, this is insane," I said, admittedly with very little meaning behind it as I arched my back away from the door, pressing myself into her body. She quickly responded by running her hands from my shoulders to my hips, bunching up the fabric of my dress as she slid her hands underneath.

"Darling, I can't have this skirt wrinkled," I said, taking a deep breath and stepping aside, smoothing my skirt out.

"Well, what about this?" she asked, boldly unbuttoning my blouse and peeling back my bra to press her lips to my hardened nipple. I nervously glanced over at the elevator, wondering how much longer we had, and was not surprised to see that Andrea had pushed the 48th floor instead of the 18th.

She moved to my other breast as I threw my head back against the wall. I could feel my arousal soaking my panties, and made a mental note to change my underwear before sitting down today.

Not five seconds before the doors opened on the 18th floor, Andrea stepped away, jumping to the opposite side of the elevator. I took a deep breath and stepped through the doors, grateful, for once, that Emily was not waiting for me. Andrea rushed ahead to open the door to the outer office for me, and I stopped, gasping in horror at her smeared lipstick. I was vaguely aware of others nearby, so I couldn't check to see if any had rubbed off on my skin or my clothing.

"Really Andrea," I said quietly, "a full year at _Runway_ and yet you still manage to look like a two-year-old Picasso did your makeup. "If that's not fixed in the next two minutes, I may just have to fire you," I said, tilting my head and walking into the office with a smile.

"Shit!" Andrea murmured, throwing her hand in front of her mouth and running off into the bathroom.

In the outer office, I met Emily, standing at her desk, obviously enjoying my sense of humor, but holding her papers up to cover her own facial expression.

"Honestly, Emily," I said as I dropped my coat and bag on Andrea's desk, heading off into my office. I adjusted my makeup in my bathroom, and was pleased to see there were no lipstick stains visible on my body or clothing. Quickly changing my underwear, I ran my hands under cold water for several minutes until my flushed expression died down.

The rest of the day went by much like any other. Andrea kept herself busy clearing out her desk and saying her goodbyes. Also, apparently Emily had asked the new second assistant to start today just to get a feel for what goes on in the office. _Smart_, I thought to myself.

After my meeting with Stacey—which went remarkably well, _or maybe I just wasn't paying attention_—I smelled sugary confections coming from the conference room. _They must have had cake to celebrate Andrea's last day_, I thought. Sighing, I sank into my chair and began reviewing some of the layouts they would need approved by the end of the day.

Several minutes later, I was startled by harsh whispers outside my office door, whispers that sounded like Emily trying to scold Andrea for something. Typical. Just then, I heard my office door click shut and looked up to see Andrea walking towards me with a cupcake.

"Hey," she said, walking around the desk. I instinctively pushed my chair back, and she stood directly in front of me, leaning against the desk where my forearms were. "A peace offering," she said, handing me a miniature red velvet cupcake on a small cocktail napkin.

I arched my eyebrow, not quite understanding what she was saying.

"Well, that's what I told Emily," she said, slowly peeling off the foil wrapper. "I just happen to know you love sweets."

"Thank you," I said, smiling as I accepted the bite-sized treat from her. She watched closely as I took the treat and popped it into my mouth.

"Before I go," she said, "will you do one thing for me?"

"Of course," I said, nodding and wiping the corners of my lips of any stray crumbs.

She sank to her knees in front of me and I suddenly realized what she wanted. It was clearly a fantasy of hers, as it had been of mine, too, but it was something I could not risk—not today. I pushed my chair away and stood, walking over to the window by the couch. "Andrea, get up," I said quietly.

She came to stand next to me and took my hand in hers, willing me to turn around and look at her. "Andrea, you're not thinking clearly," I said. "This cannot happen in the office like this. Jesus christ, my desk is transparent—anyone who walked in would see!"

"Doesn't that turn you on?" Andrea purred, gently stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.

"No!" I hissed. "It makes me nauseous just thinking about Irv using it against me or the press writing this trash and my daughters being teased at school." I pulled my hand away and began pacing around my office.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll just finish my goodbyes and head out."

"Wait," I said. "Please don't take that the wrong way. You know I enjoy—well, _that_—but you wouldn't want me crawling under your desk at your new job, would you?"

She smirked, softly chewing on her lower lip.

"Okay, bad analogy," I said. "But you understand, right?" She nodded. I tried to change the subject. "Andrea, I want you to keep whatever you've borrowed from the Closet, and your cell phone, too, if you'd like. Also, I have a small gift for you, but I didn't want to give it to you here," I added. Earlier this week, I had Emily get a gorgeous TAG Heuer timepiece. Being a more practical gift, I was sure Andrea would feel more comfortable wearing it every day than any other sort of jewelry.

"Wow, um, thank you," she said. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"It's nothing," I said. "You have been a remarkable assistant, really."

She blushed. "Umm, about the phone, I think we should give it to the new assistant. All of our fashion contacts already have that number, so it will be much easier," Andrea reasoned.

"I suppose you are right," I said. "You will surely have a phone at the _Mirror_, right?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "But for the next nine days, I'll only have email from my computer at home."

"Oh, I guess that's right," I said, remembering her week off. "Which email address will you be using?"

"My personal Gmail—it's in your contacts," she said. "So, I suppose I should go now," she said. "Can I see you tonight?"

"I'll call—no, I'll send you an email to your Gmail when I leave here and we can make plans. It shouldn't take me that long to finish up, provided everything goes as planned with Nigel's team."

"Okay, um…bye."

I leaned in and kissed her cheek, softly hugging her. "I'll see you soon," I whispered.

When she stepped out of my office, I leaned against one of the chairs across from my desk. Andrea grabbed her coat and both Nigel and Emily hugged her goodbye. Nigel winked at me and I was quickly pulled from my thoughts, heading back around my desk to focus on making changes to the layouts.

TBC


	19. Part 4 Chapter 2

Part 4, Chapter 2

Shortly after Andrea left _Runway_, I received a call to my direct line. Seeing it was James, I promptly answered.

"Hi Mom."

"Caroline? Hi, darling. Is everything okay?"

"Well, no, I'm scared. Cass is sick," she said.

I quickly covered the mouthpiece and called to Emily, "Call Roy—get my coat and bag!" My heart began racing as I gathered up the layouts on my desk and helped Emily pack them into my bag. "Care, what's wrong with your sister?"

"She's sick. The nurse said she had a fever today, so Dad picked us up a little early, but she's crying and I'm scared."

"Okay, baby, don't be scared. I'm coming over right now. Are you both at Dad's?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm heading out to the car right now, baby. I'll be there in ten minutes," I said. "But I need to hang up right now so I can leave my office, okay?"

"Okay, thanks, Mom."

Serena was holding the elevator open as Emily met me with my coat and bags. They both looked concerned—it was as if Andrea's departure softened them somehow. "Cassidy's sick," I said, "I'm sure it's nothing, but I have to go. Hold my calls," I said as the elevator doors shut.

Roy managed to weave through Manhattan traffic in record time, and even offered to wait around the corner for a while in case we needed him. I hurried up the stairs to James' house and Caroline opened the door right away, hugging me tightly as I dropped my bags in the foyer.

"Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," I said, kissing the top of her head. "Where's your sister?" I asked.

Caroline pointed towards the living room and I quickly rushed in there. James was sitting in the chair on his phone, and Cara was crouched next to my daughter, holding a cool cloth to her forehead. As I approached, Cara stepped away and headed off to the kitchen.

"Cass, baby, how are you?" I whispered, sitting on the edge of the couch and brushing the strands of matted hair from her face.

"Mom?"

"Yes, darling, I'm right here," I said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Tell me what's going on."

"I'm hot," she whined, tears dripping from her eyes. I looked down and saw she was wearing a tank top and her pajama shorts. There was a blanket on the couch, but she apparently kicked that off.

"When did this start?" I asked taking a fresh cloth from the bowl of icewater Cara just brought and gently pressing it to her chest.

"After lunch," she said. "I didn't feel good. The nurse said I had a temperature and gave me some Tylenol. It didn't help, so dad came to pick us up."

"I've also given her some children's Advil," Cara said, "but her fever isn't going down."

"Does anything else hurt, baby? Did you eat anything strange?" I asked.

"No, I'm just hot," she cried.

"What's her temperature?" I asked Cara.

"It was 102 F just before you arrived," she said. I looked at the clock—it was already past 6PM, so the doctor's office was closed.

I stood and walked over to James, who quickly ended his call. "Miranda, you didn't have to come over here."

"James, my baby is sick—she needs to see a doctor," I explained.

"It's just a fever, she'll be fine," he said.

"I'm taking her to the ER," I said, pulling out my phone and sending Roy a quick text.

"Mira, wait, just let her rest for a few hours."

"A few hours? She's had a fever for the past six hours and it hasn't gotten better," I said. "Caroline, will you go get a pair of comfy pants and a zip-up hoodie for your sister?" She nodded and sped upstairs to fetch the items. "James, we're going to the ER. You're welcome to come with," I said, marching back over to the couch.

"Cass? We're going to take you to see the doctor, okay? They will give you some medicine to make you feel better, take away your fever, and make sure nothing else is wrong, okay?"

She nodded. "Can you sit up for me, darling?" She pushed herself off the couch and I could feel the heat radiating from her body. Caroline ran back into the room, handing me her clothes. I helped her into the sleeves of the jacket and slipped her pants on over her shorts. Caroline also brought a pair of flip-flops—very practical—which I gently slipped on her feet.

"Come here, Cass," James said, walking over to the couch and picking her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carried her out to the waiting car.

"Miranda, would you like me to stay here with Caroline?" Cara asked.

"No, Caroline's coming with us," I said, wrapping my arm around my daughter's shoulder. "If you can just make sure Cassidy's bed has clean sheets and their bathroom is disinfected, that would be perfect," I said, following James out to the car.

Caroline and I climbed into the backseat first, then James helped Cassidy in before moving to sit up front. She curled up and laid her head on my lap, not unlike the way Andrea had done the same several weeks ago. I gently stroked her hair as Roy silently wove us through Friday night traffic in the city.

When we arrived, Cassidy clung to me and buried her face in my neck. My poor daughter was terrified of needles, so I should have known bringing her here would only serve to ignite that fear.

Roy opened the car door and I slid across the backseat, carrying her in my arms. I was surprised, really, that I was able to hold her up, but I think she was actually holding herself up, judging by how tightly her arms were clasped around my neck.

A nurse directed us to a small room in triage and took her vitals. Her temperature had risen to 103.6 F and I knew that my own bodyheat couldn't be helping her, but I wasn't about to let my baby go.

"She's afraid of needles," I whispered to the nurse, seeing that she was preparing a syringe for a blood sample. The nurse nodded and quickly applied some topical anesthetic cream to numb her skin before slipping the needle in and retrieving two vials of blood.

She gestured for us to follow her, and she showed us to a somewhat private room. _At least it has a door_, I thought to myself.

"We should have the results in a few minutes," she explained, lowering the railing on the bed and setting a cup of icewater and a straw on the tray. "With a fever this high, the doctor will want to rule out anything serious before we administer any antibiotics or anti-inflammatory meds," she explained. "Make yourselves comfortable, and see if Cassidy can't get some rest."

I nodded and sat down on the bed, moving it into a semi-upright position before laying back. I gently rolled Cassidy onto the bed next to me, and she fell asleep, her head on my shoulder and arms still wrapped around my neck.

It was a little bit surreal for me. One month ago, I would have been too scared to even hug my daughters, and I surely wouldn't have expected them to _want_ my attention. Today, my daughter was curled up next to me, clinging to me, in fact. I sighed softly, and despite the situation, a smile crept over my face.

"Mom, is Cass going to be okay?" Caroline whispered.

"Yes, baby, they're going to give your sister some medicine to make her feel better, don't you worry," I said. "Can you do me a favor, sweetie?"

"Sure."

"Reach into my bag over there and pull out my cell phone—are there any missed calls or texts?" I asked. I knew if something was extremely urgent, Emily would warn me with a message.

After several seconds, she pulled the phone out. "Emily sent you a text," she said.

"Will you read it to me?"

"Sure. She said, 'Is everything okay with Cassidy? Let me know if you need anything—change of clothes, dinner, etc.'" Caroline read. "Mom, who's Emily?"

"She's my assistant," I said, quickly thinking how differently I would react if it were Andrea asking me that. "Can you reply to her message for me?" Caroline nodded, so I continued, "Thank you, we are at the hospital getting her checked out. I won't be in tomorrow. M."

Caroline quickly typed it and then showed me the screen. "Perfect, send it," I said.

"Mom, what did you mean you won't be in tomorrow?"

"Well, I work on a lot of Saturdays, especially when we have an important photo shoot or special feature in the magazine. I wanted to tell Emily that I would not be coming in tomorrow so they don't wonder where I am," I explained.

"Will you stay with us?" Caroline asked.

"Well, I don't know," I began, unsure of how James would feel about me spending the night.

"Please?" Cassidy asked, her eyes still shut.

"Yes, of course," I said, kissing her softly on the forehead. "I'll stay with you tonight." I secretly wanted to bring them back home to the townhouse, but I figured this wasn't the appropriate time to suggest that.

Several minutes later, the doctor walked in and introduced himself as Dr. Harris. I had no idea where James was, and for the first time, I actually wished he was there with me.

He asked Cassidy to sit up and he performed several tests on her, mostly focusing on her upper body. "Do you have a stiff neck or a headache?" he asked.

"No, not really," Cassidy said. "I'm a little dizzy, I guess."

"Okay," he said, feeling for swelling around her neck before gesturing that she could lie back down. "We're going to give her some medicine that should reduce her fever," he said. "Do you know if she's been in contact with anyone who has meningitis?"

My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach. _Meningitis?_ "Uh, no, I have no idea. She's been living with her father for the past few months," I said. "Is that what you think it is?"

"Based on her symptoms and the quick onset, it would be my best guess. The only way to know for sure is to do a spinal tap, which could be pretty painful," he added. "Viral meningitis usually clears within a week when it's diagnosed early on, so I really don't think there is anything to worry about."

Just then, the nurse walked in and applied anesthetic to Cassidy's arm again before administering Tylenol and Ammoxicillin. I moved my hand to brush Cassidy's hair out of her eyes, blocking her view of the needle.

"I'm going to ask that you keep an eye on her for the next 48 hours," Dr. Harris continued. "If her fever goes above 103, or if she shows any signs of confusion or severely blurred vision, please call me immediately," he said. "But otherwise, make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids—orange juice, Gatorade, anything like that."

I nodded. "Can she return to school on Monday?"

"If she wants to and feels like it, I don't see a problem. To be on the safe side, I'll write her a note for Monday and Tuesday off if she needs more rest."

"Thank you, doctor," I said, taking the note from him.

"No problem," he said. "The nurse will get your paperwork in order and then you can head home. You're going to start feeling better soon, Cassidy," he said before stepping out.

Several minutes later, the nurse came in with the final paperwork, and James trailed in behind her. I didn't want to say anything in front of the girls. Once the nurse left, I kissed Cassidy on the forehead and helped her sit up. "Sweetie, your Dad is going to carry you to the car, okay?" I said.

"I can walk," she said.

"No, darling, you need to rest," I urged, sliding off the bed as James bent down to pick her up. I bent down and kissed Caroline softly on the top of her head and she squeezed my hand.

"I love you, Mom," she whispered.

I bit my lip, keeping the tears from cascading down my cheeks. "Baby, I love you too—very much," I said, hugging her tightly.

When we returned to James' house, I went straight for the kitchen to find something for Cassidy to drink and a light snack to bring her while James carried her upstairs to the bedroom she shared with her sister.

"Miranda, do you need a ride home?" James asked as he entered the kitchen.

"No. The girls asked me to stay here tonight. I'll stay in their room," I said.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle things here," he said, taking the applesauce and spoon from my hand. "We don't need you here tonight. You can go back to the magazine."

"James, you may not need me, but the girls do. If you don't want me to stay, I will just bring the girls back to the townhouse," I said, trying very hard to sound calm and composed.

"Oh, so this is part of your new thing?" he said, "You want to force the girls to love you? Manipulate them into thinking they need you?"

"That is not true and you know it," I hissed. "I love them and miss them very much. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for my daughters."

"Mom? Cass is calling for you," Caroline said, stepping into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around me.

"Okay, sweetie, I'm on my way," I said. "Your dad has some applesauce for Cass, can you carry that up?"

She nodded and I followed my daughter upstairs without giving James another look.

"I thought you left," Cassidy said as I set the Gatorade and cup of ice on a coaster on her nightstand.

"No, darling, I was just getting you something to drink," I explained. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm not as hot as I was before," she said. "But I'm really tired."

"That's okay, baby, the medicine will make you sleepy. Do you want a little something to eat?"

"Maybe later," she said, taking a few sips of the Gatorade before falling back against her pillows.

"You're staying here, right?" she asked.

"Of course, baby. I'll be right here all night," I said, softly brushing the hair out of her eyes as she drifted off into sleep.

"Caroline," I said, turning my attention to my other daughter, "Why don't you run downstairs and have some dinner with your dad? I'll stay up here and keep an eye on Cass, okay?"

She nodded. "Oh, Mom, you can lay down in my bed if you want," she said before heading out and shutting the door.

Once I was sure Cassidy was asleep, I sat on Caroline's bed and leaned back against the wall. Their beds were arranged in an L-shape, so I could still keep an eye on my daughter from where I sat.

Quietly sighing, I pulled out my phone and began to write a text message to Andrea, but remembered she did not have a phone. I quickly muted my phone and sent a text to Emily, "Home from the hospital and staying with girls here tonight. Will return to townhouse Saturday afternoon. Please pickup a prepaid cell-phone and program my personal contacts and leave it with the Book. M."

Even if it was only for the week, I needed to be able to text Andrea. Glancing at the time, I saw it was nearly 10PM. I quietly sighed and began writing an email.

From: Priestly, Miranda  
To: [ ]  
Subject: tonight

Andrea,  
I got called away from the office just after you left—Cassidy was sick with a very high fever and Caroline wanted me to come over. I was terrified something serious was wrong, and we took her to the ER, and now she's home resting. The Dr thinks she will be okay, but wants us to keep an eye on her for the next day or so because he thinks she might have meningitis! My heart dropped when he said that—I wish you were there with me. The girls asked me to stay the night, and while James insisted that he did not want me here, I'm staying to look after my baby. I was hoping to give you your gift tonight. I'm sorry about the change in plans. I should be home tomorrow afternoon sometime and will let you know more once Cass gets through the night.

Miranda

Seconds later, I looked down and saw I had a response from Andrea.

From: Andrea Sachs  
To: Priestly, Miranda  
Subject: RE: tonight

Hi Miranda— I'm glad to hear Cassidy is home, but I can imagine how scared you must have been when you got that call at work. Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need me to bring you anything or take care of anything at the townhouse? I'd offer to come sit with you, but it doesn't sound like James would be too happy with that. Don't worry about the change in plans. We have time, and I know your daughters are your priority, especially if one is sick. Take care of yourself and try to get some rest, too. If you think it's appropriate, tell Cass I hope she's feeling better.

xo Andrea

I smiled at how thoughtful Andrea was. I would be sure to tell Cass that she was thinking of her.

From: Priestly, Miranda  
To: Andrea Sachs  
Subject: RE: RE: tonight

Thank you for being so thoughtful and understanding. I need to work on getting the girls back home with me in the townhouse, and I am starting to think James will put up a fight. I just remembered, the inspection for the new place is scheduled for 12:30PM tomorrow—would you mind going? If not, that's fine, but could you please call to cancel so we can reschedule for next week? I'm going to try and get some sleep while Cass is resting. xo M

After clicking "send" I realized that Andrea would not be able to call and cancel because she did not have a phone. Shaking my head, I knew I didn't need to worry, because Andrea would find a way to take care of it. Just as I was starting to let my eyes close, Cassidy woke up and practically jumped off the bed.

I walked over to her. "Cass, sweetie, are you okay?"

"Yeah, it just scared me."

"What did, baby?"

"I don't remember," she said.

"Aww, honey, it's probably just a silly dream. Are you still feeling okay?"

"Yeah, will you stay here with me?" she asked.

"Of course, I'm just in Care's bed."

"No, I mean _here_ here, in my bed."

"Oh, sure," I said, kicking my heels off and crawling over her. "Is this okay?" I asked, resting my head on the pillow next to her.

She nodded and took my hand, pulling it across her waist.

"Goodnight, Cass," I whispered, softly kissing the top of her head before closing my own eyes.

TBC


	20. Part 4 Chapter 3

A/N: Reminder, rated M for Mirandy. :)

* * *

Part 4, Chapter 3

I woke late the next morning. The sun was shining brightly behind the dark curtains in the bedroom, and Caroline was groggily heading to the en suite bathroom. I looked over, surprised to see Cassidy's bright eyes shining back at me.

"Good morning, baby," I said, softly kissing her cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

"Okay. My stomach hurts a little, but I think I'm just hungry," she said, giggling. "Are you going to stay all weekend with us?"

"No, darling," I said. "Your dad is going to take good care of you, though. I promise you."

"Uggh!" she groaned, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "This is ridiculous!" she said.

"What is?"

"This! Seeing either you or dad, but not both of you. It's not fair!" she pouted.

"Cass," I warned. "You know that your father and I are not married anymore. We don't live together—and we haven't for many many years." I paused, sensing James' presence in the doorway. Without looking up, I kissed Cassidy on the forehead and asked, "What do you think about you and your sister moving back to live with me?"

"Today?!" she asked, her eyes lighting up.

"No, sweetie," I said with a smile. "Maybe in a week or so. Actually, maybe after school is finished," I said, remembering they only had a few weeks left before summer break.

"Really? You don't care?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I want you to come home."

She reached over and hugged me tightly, burying her face in my neck. After several minutes, I pulled her away. "Darling, why did you ask if I cared?"

"We—we thought you didn't want us around, that you didn't want us to bother you," she said, looking down at the blanket.

"Oh, baby, that is entirely _not true_," I said. "You know I couldn't take you to Paris with me, and I couldn't leave you home alone, so that was why you stayed with your dad," I tried to explain.

"But you came home and didn't want us back."

"Oh, Cass," I said, wrapping my arms around her, "That's not true at all. I _did_ want you back, very much, but there were a lot of photographers hanging around our porch because of the news about my divorce from Stephen. I just wanted to keep you away from that."

"We don't mind photographers."

"Darling, I know, but I don't want them putting your face in the papers and writing lies about us. Please believe me," I said. "You've lived with me for eight years and I've really missed you these past few weeks."

Just then, James stepped inside and made his presence known. "Good morning," he called. "How is my sleeping beauty?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. _Was he talking to me? _I wondered. _No, no, he was talking to Cass__, _I thought, reassuring myself. He glanced over at me and smiled, softly nodding. "I made some breakfast for all of us, so why don't we head downstairs?" he said.

Cass nodded and crawled out of bed, leaving me and James alone in the bedroom. I pulled myself up and leaned against the headboard as I attempted to smooth out my clothes.

"And how about you?" he asked. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded. "Cass woke up a few times during the night and I gave her another dose of Tylenol, but she seems to be feeling much better this morning. I'll call the doctor this afternoon just to double-check."

"Miranda," he began.

"James," I interrupted, "the girls are moving back home—with me—as soon as they are finished with school in a few weeks."

"Okay."

I quickly looked up at him in surprise. "Just okay?" I'll admit that I expected him to put up much more of an argument than that.

"Mira, I don't want to fight. They clearly miss you. You take care of them," he added, reaching over and taking my hand. I bit my lip as tears threatened to fall from my eyes. "You know," he continued, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand, "I never thought I'd see you like this again."

I wiped my eyes with my other hand and looked up at him, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"The way you look when you wake up," he explained. "Your makeup has worn off, your hair is a little messy, and you're still the most beautiful woman in the world."

My eyes widened. _What on earth was he thinking?_ I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away from his, pushing the blankets off my legs. "I am going to pretend that you're just a little confused due to lack of sleep or something," I said, pushing past him and climbing off the bed. I stepped into my heels and collected my bag, heading for the door. "I don't even want to know what is going through your mind. Really, James."

"Look, Mira, I'm not trying to be a jerk," he said, standing up. I held my hand up to keep him from coming any closer. "I just saw you there with Cass, and it just brought back memories. I'm sorry for what I said last night."

"A simple apology would have sufficed," I said, looking down at my nails. I needed to have Emily schedule a manicure for Monday.

Just then, Cassidy and Caroline emerged from the bathroom, fresh-faced and ready for breakfast. "Girls, your father has breakfast ready downstairs. I will call you later this afternoon to check up on you, okay?"

They nodded and came over to hug me goodbye. "Call if you need anything?"

"Yep, thanks, Mom. Love you," Caroline said.

"Thanks for staying with me last night," Cassidy said, "I love you too, Mom."

I let myself out the front door, and putting on my sunglasses, I realized I would need to call a cab. My hair was a mess and my clothes were severely wrinkled—ironic, because just yesterday I was explaining to Andrea that I didn't want to wrinkle this skirt.

_Beep! Beep! _I turned my head towards the source of that annoying horn and was shocked and relieved to see Roy standing there next to the towncar. "Good morning, Miranda," he said. "Need a lift?"

Speechless, I climbed into the backseat of the car as he began driving me home. "Ho—how did you know?" I asked.

"Well, Emily sent me a message that you were spending the night, and, well, I wasn't sure if you'd need a ride today so I just thought I'd park out here this morning and wait."

"Thank you, Roy," I said with a smile. I looked down at my phone and saw that it was already 11:15. I would still have time to get to the apartment in time for the inspection, and that way, I could see Andrea and give her a phone, too.

As we pulled up to the townhouse, I asked Roy to wait for me and quickly headed upstairs to take a quick shower. I threw on jeans and a summery blouse with a light scarf, taking the opportunity to wear my Charlotte Olympia wedge heels again. Downstairs, I found a phone that Emily left, with its number written on a post-it. I programmed the number into my own phone and then headed out the door.

Andrea walked to the new place, stopping to get coffee as she took a few minutes to explore what would be her new neighborhood. There were several small cafes, a Starbucks, a drugstore, and even a small organic market within two blocks. She was waiting for Jonathan in the lobby of the building when I arrived.

"Miranda?" she asked, not expecting to see me.

"I needed to see you," I said, hugging her tightly and taking a seat next to her. "Here," I said, handing her the phone. "Email isn't enough. Sometimes I just need to talk to you," I explained. "And I don't want you walking around the city without a way to call for help."

"Thanks," she said, slipping it into her purse. "Is everything okay? How's Cass?"

"She's feeling much better, thankfully. But this morning, James was—I don't even know how to explain it. He was practically coming onto me."

I could see that Andrea tensed up, and I immediately regretted telling her that. "Did he hurt you?" she asked.

"No, no, nothing like that. We had been arguing last night, and I don't know if he was trying to apologize or trying to manipulate me so I'd agree to let him keep the girls. Either way, it wasn't working. I left, and wanted to call you so badly," I said, letting my voice trail off as Andrea took my hands in hers.

"Ladies," Jonathan said as he approached us. "Are you ready to head upstairs?" We both nodded and Jonathan led us to the elevator. I presume the man next to him wearing dickies and wheeling a dirty, beat-up small suitcase was the inspector.

Andrea sat quietly on the windowsill while I discussed a few details with Jonathan. Closing would be at 1PM on Wednesday the 28th, at which point I would need to bring the sale price of the condo in cash, as well as be there to sign the paperwork.

I walked back over to the window and sat next to Andrea. "Still want to look for furniture this afternoon?" I asked.

"Can we just shop online?" she said.

"I suppose. We can play it by ear," I said.

Jonathan called me over to pay the inspector. The condo was in perfect condition, really. The only things he suggested were changing the filters in the A/C vents and replacing the bathroom faucet due to some corrosion. We left the condo and I guided Andrea towards the towncar after saying goodbye to Jonathan.

She paused before stepping inside. "I walked here—I can just walk back to my place. I have a lot of things to pack up."

"Andrea, you know we can hire packers and movers if you'd like."

"No, that's not necessary. I want to sort through and throw out a lot of old papers I've been saving from college. I'm going to grab some boxes from the supermarket tonight."

I nodded, trying to give her space to do her own thing and pack up her belongings the way she wanted to. If anything, that was going to be the most difficult hurdle of her renting from me: letting her do things her way.

"Andrea, do you want to come to the townhouse with me for a while this afternoon?" I asked.

"Sure," she said, smiling brightly, "I just thought you were going to rest after staying up with Cassidy."

"No, actually, I think I got more sleep last night than I have in the past week," I said.

She nodded and climbed into the towncar. I followed, shutting the door behind me. Within seconds, she had straddled me, sucking the air from my lungs with her hungry kisses. I finally managed to slide away from her.

"Andrea," I gasped, "What has gotten into you, darling?"

"I wanted to pick up where we left off yesterday," she said. "Don't you want that?" she asked me.

"Yes, but not here. Andrea, Thursday night was amazing, and I very much look forward to spending time with you like that again, but one of the things I love most about being with you is just the simple intimacy of conversation, of sitting on the couch, taking a nap, sharing a meal. Darling," I said, gently cupping her cheek. "I don't want you to smother me with kisses, etc. every time I see you."

"Is it because you think someone will see us? I've been really good about that, Miranda," she pleaded.

"No, no, that's not it at all," I said. "Although, I mean there are some things I never want anyone else to see," I explained, "You know?"

"Yeah," she said, turning and sitting back in the seat. "I'm sorry. I just can't get enough of you," she said, blushing slightly.

"Well, I guess that is a good problem to have," I replied, softly kissing her lips. "Are you okay with that? Taking things slow?" I asked. I sincerely hoped she understood, but part of me was so desperate to keep her in my life, I would do anything, even in the backseat of the towncar.

"Yes," she said, resting her head on my shoulder. "I think as long as we keep communicating and all that," she said.

The car came to a stop in front of the townhouse, and Andrea and I both headed in the front door. I kicked off my heels and headed to the kitchen to find something to drink. Pouring two glasses of lemonade, I carried them into the den, where Andrea was sitting on the sofa. I set the lemonade on the tray on the coffee table just as my phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered, stepping back into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mrs. Priestly? This is Joanne, Dr. Harris's nurse. Is this a good time?"

"Oh, of course," I said. "I was planning to call your office this afternoon. And please, call me Miranda."

"Very well, Miranda. We just wanted to check and see how Cassidy was doing. Her final labwork came back just fine. Her white blood cell count was just on the high end of normal, so I think we can safely rule out anything serious."

"That's wonderful news," I said. "She was very tired last night, but her fever seems to have gone down and she was hungry this morning, so I think she's doing much better."

"Great. Dr. Harris thinks it was probably just a virus, but it's a good thing you brought her in just to be safe. It's difficult to tell with kids sometimes," she said. "Make sure she continues to get plenty of rest and drink fluids-it will help her body battle the fatigue that sometimes comes with a fever."

"Thank you, we'll see to that," I said.

"If you don't have any other questions, then we'll just send her chart over to the pediatrician's office to keep on file."

"Perfect. Thank you so much for everything," I said, ending the call and returning to Andrea.

"Was that about Cassidy?" she asked. "Everything okay."

"Yes. Just a virus, she's fine," I said, walking over to the couch and reaching for my lemonade.

"Did anyone tell you how hot you look in jeans?" Andrea asked.

I turned to look at her and was met with a smoldering gaze as she took my hand and tugged me, pulling me to the couch with one knee on either side of her hips. She slipped her hands in the back pockets of my jeans and firmly squeezed, causing me to gasp and lean forward, closer to her. I could feel my pulse rising as she slipped her right hand out and brought it around to the front, playing with the button closure. She looked up at me, asking for permission with her eyes.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. _Yes, I wanted this. _"Yes," I breathed, shaking my head and nodding. "Yes, yes."

She swiftly unbuttoned my jeans and slipped her hand inside the tight space, the mere fabric of the denim pressing her middle finger tightly against my clitoris. I gasped and leaned forward, gripping the back of the couch on either side of Andrea's shoulders.

"So hot," Andrea whispered, "You're so fucking hot in these jeans, Miranda."

She pressed her fingers further until I felt her moving two fingers inside me. My mouth opened wide as I inhaled. She quite literally took my breath away as her palm pressed against my clit and my hips bucked wildly into her hand.

"That's it," she whispered, "ride my fingers." She slipped her other hand from my back pocket and cupped my breast, squeezing my nipple through my shirt. I hissed as I felt my muscles tighten around her fingers.

"Let go, Miranda. Come for me," she whispered.

"Ohhhhh…goddddd!" I moaned as I felt waves crashing through my body. My arms trembled as I fought the conflicting needs of holding myself up and clutching the fabric of the couch tightly in my fists. Andrea gently slipped her fingers away and turned me to lay on my back on the couch. I was vaguely aware that she was tugging my jeans off as I felt the cool air hit my hot center.

She lifted my left leg over the back of the couch and nudged my right foot to the floor as she climbed onto the couch between my legs. I shivered as I felt her drag her tongue across my folds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that this was not at all what I meant when I asked Andrea if we could 'take things slow.' But, as she pressed her lips further, I reached out to grab the pillows on the couch, all rational thoughts quickly vanishing as I was struck by another overwhelming sensation.

"Ohh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!" I cried, "Andrea, Andrea, oh god, please—it's—ugh!"

Andrea took my clit between her teeth and gently bit, applying just enough pressure to send me spiraling over the edge…again. As I caught my breath, I felt Andrea crawl up alongside me on the couch. I leaned over and kissed her, moaning into her mouth as I tasted my own juices on her lips.

"Andrea," I said, hesitating and licking my lips before I continued. _Was I supposed to thank her in this situation? Or was she waiting for me to return the favor? _I wondered. "Thank you," I said, finally. I wasn't ready to take things any further, and I knew I needed some distance from her in order to regain some control of my senses. I stood from the couch, bending down to pick up my jeans and panties from the floor. "I'm going to go upstairs and take a quick shower," I said, self-consciously holding the clothing in front of my body.

"Do—do you want me to leave?" she asked.

"No, I'll just be a few minutes," I said. I desperately wanted to stay there on the couch with her, but I was scared that she would expect me to reciprocate; I had never felt so torn in my entire life. Unfortunately, my fear of disappointing her won out and I made another excuse to step away. Hopefully, Andrea would think I was concerned about the divorce and that would keep her content with my inaction.

I came downstairs nearly an hour later, dressed in yoga pants and a crewneck shirt, carrying my laptop. Andrea was on the couch, and it looked as if she had fallen asleep watching a television show.

"Hey," I said, gently waking her as I sat down. "I'm sorry I took so long. Still interested in furniture?"

She regarded me intently and slowly nodded, sitting up and stretching her arms. I spent the next few hours showing her various sofas, chairs, tables, dressers, and beds until I had a sense for what she liked. Not surprisingly, she liked clean, modern lines with a comfortable feel, and had a preference for geometric designs over florals, paisleys, or oriental._ I could work with this_, I thought. I recognized that she was getting tired, so I closed my laptop and set it on the table.

"We're done?" she asked.

"Well, for now," I said. "Later tonight I'll lay everything out and take a look at the exact dimensions of the condo and make sure it all fits together. I'll send you an email to review before I order, okay?"

"Sure," she said, nodding. She picked up my hand and laced her fingers with mine. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I said.

"Is something wrong?" she asked carefully, lacing her fingers in mine.

"What do you mean?" I said, turning to face her.

"Miranda, I feel like I'm getting mixed signals from you. I mean, either you want me or you don't," she said, pulling her hand away.

I sighed. I was a fool to think I could delay this conversation. "Andrea, listen to me very closely," I said, turning on the couch so I was completely facing her. I gently placed my hands on her shoulders so that she, too, was facing me. "I love you, Andrea Elizabeth Sachs, and I can no longer imagine my life without you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but I gently pressed my finger to her lips and continued. "You've made me a better mother, a better friend, a better _person_, darling. I do want you—in ways I never thought I could ever want someone, especially another woman. I know I've asked you before to be patient with me, and I'm asking you again now, actually I'm begging you to trust me and give me a little more time. Between the divorce, my daughters, Irv, the new place, and being down one highly competent assistant, I am holding on by a thread. Please, just trust me," I said.

She reached up and covered her face as she began to cry. It certainly wasn't the response I expected, but I suppose it was better than her running out. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close while she cried against my shoulder. "I'm sorry, darling," I said as I ran my fingers through her hair, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No, I'm sorry," she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "You tried telling me before, but I wasn't listening. I just continued to push you," she said.

"Come here, lie down with me," I said, stretching out on the couch, "I just want to hold you for a while if that's okay."

She nodded and scooted over on the couch, lying down in front of me. "Will you turn around?" I whispered in her ear. She turned over and I wrapped my arms around her, sliding one underneath her body before pulling her close. I leaned in and kissed her, and she pushed me back, breaking the kiss as she laid her head on my shoulder.

"I love you, too, Miranda," she said.

TBC


	21. Part 4 Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry about the mix-up earlier. FF was not being very friendly. Should be working now. And, for your troubles... this is definitely going to be more than 4 parts :)

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Part 4, Chapter 4

Andrea spent the night. We eventually moved upstairs into bed after sleeping for a few hours on the couch. I was grateful she stayed with me, as I needed her reassurance after calling James and discovering Cassidy was running a fever again, for which he gave her more tylenol. He insisted I didn't need to be there, and Andrea helped to distract me. She left early Sunday morning to begin packing her apartment, and I again called James to remind him to keep Cassidy home from school on Monday.

Now, it was Monday morning, and I was heading into the car on my way to work—my first day at _Runway _without Andrea. I hadn't even arrived at Elias-Clarke yet, and I pulled out my cellphone and dialed her number.

"Hello?" she answered. I could tell I woke her up.

"Sorry I woke you," I said, "but…I didn't think it would be like this," I said.

"I miss you too, Miranda," she said. I could imagine her sleepy smile.

"How is the packing going?"

"Well, I was up late last night and got a lot of my books and clothes packed. I really just have to go through the stuff in my desk, and that's what will take longer because I need to throw some stuff out. Can I see you this week sometime?" she asked.

"Tonight I have a dinner party at Linda's, and I can't miss that. Tuesday at dusk we have the Oscar shoot, Wednesday I have a late lunch with Irv…what about Thursday?"

"I'll take it," she said. "Pencil me in."

"Okay," I said. "I look forward to seeing you. Maybe we should make a standing reservation."

"Well, until things are settled, I'll do whatever it requires to see you."

"Okay, I've got to go upstairs. Call me if you need anything. Good luck with the packing."

"Thanks," she said.

I hung up the phone and marched into my office. My coffee was missing, as were my two assistants, Emily, and whatever-her-name-is. I sighed. This was not going to be an easy day.

After lashing out at my staff in three meetings this morning, Nigel stormed into my office and shut the door behind him. I stood to protest his barbaric behavior, but he simply took me by the hand and dragged me into the bathroom in my office. He sat on the toilet lid and pulled me into his lap. I couldn't resist, and started crying the minute he wrapped his arms around me.

"Shhh, it's okay, Mira, let it out," he said, soothingly tracing circles on my back. "I know it's hard. She's not here and that's a big change, but you can see her tonight, and now you can actually spend time with her," he said, trying to reassure me. I was slightly concerned that he saw through me too well, but it really didn't matter.

"I—I don't know if I can do it," I cried, careful not to get any mascara on his shoulder.

"Miranda, you have never really known how to be in a relationship with someone, how to live with another person. Think about it," he said. "Now, we all know my track record is hardly exemplary, but that's mostly because no one could ever replace David. What I remember most about him, though, wasn't the time we spent together in bed, but the sporadic visits at the office during the day, the way he would sit on my front steps waiting for me to come home, the incessant phone calls I'd get from him at work (we didn't have cell phones or email back then!). Before he talked about moving in with me, we used to meet for a drink after work, and we'd spend the weekend at one of our places."

"I remember that," I said, "but if you're trying to say that I don't think of her enough—"

"No," Nigel interrupted, "that's not what I'm trying to say at all. You do think of her—I can see that you do—but you need to stop thinking in terms of your schedule. Your partner isn't an appointment in your calendar. If you slip out early today, will it ruin the magazine? Of course not. You have a solid team in place here to ensure everything will run smoothly."

"I guess I did drop everything and leave on Friday when Cassidy was sick," I said.

"Right, but it doesn't have to be an emergency for you to have a personal life. As your best friend _and sister_, I'm warning you: Andrea will only put up with things the way they are for so long."

"I get it," I said, shaking my head and standing up to fix my makeup in the mirror. Unfortunately, I knew all too well what he meant, and was already starting to see how my lifestyle was wearing on her.

Nigel left and I grabbed my phone and bag. "Emily, I'm going to check on Cassidy before her father gets home from work. I have dinner at Linda's tonight at 6, so I'm going straight home to get ready."

"Did you need a dress messengered to the townhouse?" she asked.

"No, it's casual. Text me with anything urgent," I said, stepping into the elevators.

In the car, I sent Andrea a text message: "On my way to check on Cass before James gets home from work. I'll tell her you said hello."

Andrea quickly replied, "Thanks. Hope she's better. How was work?"

I chuckled as I wrote back: "Interesting. I was practically screaming in a staff meeting, then five minutes later I was sitting on Nigel's lap, crying on his shoulder."

"OMG what's wrong?" she wrote.

"Nothing, nothing. Nigel just had some words for me, stuff I needed to hear. I'll tell you later."

"OK, if I don't talk to you, enjoy your dinner," she wrote back.

I smiled before slipping my phone in my pocket and running up the steps to James' home.

"Miranda?" Cara said, answering the door. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, I just wanted to stop and see Cass—may I come in?"

"Mom?"

"Sweetheart, how are you? Did your fever go down?" I said, meeting Cassidy in the foyer.

"I'm good. I feel a lot better," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.

"Baby, your eyes are red—were you crying?"

"Just a little," she said, glancing over at Cara.

"What happened?" I asked them both.

"Miranda, I'm sorry. I was just changing the sheets. I know how you like the sheets to be changed more often when one of the girls is sick, and, well, it upset Cassidy," she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking over at my daughter.

I nodded and took Cassidy's hand, walking her over to the couch. She climbed up onto my lap like a child—not unlike the way I was sitting with Nigel just an hour earlier. "Baby, why were you upset?" I asked quietly, stroking her hair.

"My pillow—it smelled like you. And Cara washed it, and now it doesn't," she said as tears began to fall from her eyes. Cara shrugged her shoulders and I gestured for her to give me a few minutes alone with my daughter.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry she washed it, but it needed to be cleaned eventually." I reached up and untied the white Hermes scarf from around my neck. "Here," I said, handing it to my daughter. "Keep this. When the scent fades, let me know and I will trade you."

"Really?" she asked, clutching the scarf and inhaling.

"Yes, darling, but it's our little secret, okay?" I said, smiling and kissing her on the forehead.

"Okay, Mom. Thanks!"

"Oh, and I meant to tell you, Andrea—_Andy—_says hello."

"I thought she quit _Runway_?"

"She did, but she is my friend, so I still talk to her," I explained.

"Oh, cool. Tell her I said hi, too. Did she get a reporter job yet?"

"Yes, actually at the _New York Mirror_. She starts next week. Maybe you'd like to shadow her at work one day once she gets settled," I suggested.

"That would be so cool!"

I smiled. "Baby, why don't you run upstairs and put this scarf away," I said. "I need to leave and get ready for a party tonight."

"Okay. Thanks for coming, Mom," she said, hugging me.

"Of course. I want to make sure you're feeling 100% better," I said. "You will call me if you need anything?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Okay, no more tears, sweetie. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Mom," she said, heading upstairs, clutching the scarf tightly.

I left without saying goodbye to Cara. I understood that she meant well by washing the sheets, but I was a little upset that she didn't call me once she realized why Cassidy was crying. Sighing, I sank back into the cool leather seat of the town car and called Andrea.

"Hey," she answered.

"What is it about the way I smell?" I asked.

"Uhm, _what_?!"

"You heard me. There was something about my scent that first night you stayed at the townhouse, in my bed." There was silence on the other end of the line. "The red silk nightgown?"

"Oh, uh, yeah."

"Anyway," I said, sighing, "I'm just leaving James' and Cassidy was in tears because Cara washed the sheets and now her pillow doesn't smell like me anymore. Can you believe that?"

"Aww," Andrea said, "that's so sweet. I can totally believe that. I'm actually starting to miss your smell, too, now that you mention it."

I chuckled. "Well, I will be seeing you soon, don't worry. I have to go get ready for dinner. I'll text you later," I said.

"Okay, bye," she said before I ended the call, smiling. It was a totally unnecessary phone call, but somehow, I enjoyed the excess words.

Once I arrived at home, I slipped into a simple black shift dress and touched up my makeup. I still had a bit of time before I needed to leave, so I sat at my desk and went through my emails—a task that always seemed to take longer than it should.

Dinner was lovely, and I am constantly in awe of the risks Linda takes in her own fashion sense. It's refreshing, really, to see someone my age appear so completely ageless. One of her guests this evening was a young designer from Europe whose name I didn't catch because I was so struck by her ensemble. Her dress looked as if it was made of stuffed animals, and was absolutely hideous…in any context. I saw her and the only thought that crossed my mind was "flammable."

At one point in the evening, I was sitting on the sofa by myself. I pulled out my phone and was not surprised to see I had no messages from Andrea. She was not someone to bother me during work. Smirking, I muted my phone before holding it up and snapping a photo of this hideous stuffed-animal dress. I texted this to Andrea and wrote "Thoughts?"

Within seconds, she replied, "That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen. You can't be serious! Who would even wear that in your presence?"

I smiled. Andrea, _my _Andrea, was the only one whose presence I wanted to be in at the moment. I stood and said my goodbyes, thanking Linda for a lovely evening. I didn't bother with the pink Big Bird—I presume she saw my pursed lips upon her arrival and understood I would have nothing to do with her.

In the car, I again texted Andrea: "Just left Linda's. Miss you."

She replied, "Just climbed into bed…with my favorite piece of red silk. Miss you too. xo"

I smiled. As much as I wanted to tell Roy to drive to her place and surprise her, I knew that we needed time apart, and I still needed time to find my courage.

TBC


	22. Part 4 Chapter 5

A/N: I have been having such difficulties accessing the backend side of FF—the only browser that is letting me login is Opera (!). Anyway, apologies if the formatting is off. Hopefully I can get that fixed this weekend! xo

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Part 4, Chapter 5

Tuesday flew by, and I felt some relief in knowing that I had plans with Andrea later in the week. Around lunchtime, she sent me a photo message of moving boxes neatly stacked in her apartment. I could see that most of them were labeled "clothes" or "books" and was surprised I didn't see any with kitchen items.

"What about your dishes or pots and pans? You seem so organized." I replied.

"Those stay with the apartment :(" she wrote.

I began to type out a reply, explaining I would buy her whatever she needed, but she quickly sent another message: "I am going to cash the check from you today— I have some kitchen stuff in mind from Bed Bath & Beyond."

I deleted what I was writing, reminding myself to give her space. "That sounds like an excellent idea. Let me know if you want company shopping. Gtg back to work—lots to do before Oscar shoot. xo"

"Thanks. Miss you. xo," she replied.

I didn't talk to Andrea for the rest of the day, but again, I was at ease simply knowing I could text her whenever I wanted. I couldn't even think about how things were before text messaging.

The Oscar de la Renta shoot went surprisingly well—either that or I just wasn't paying attention—and we finished early, only needing to re-shoot one pose. As everyone was wrapping up, Nigel took me by the elbow and quickly led me down the street.

"Nigel—what? Where are we going?"

"I am taking you out for a drink," he said. I wondered if he was just trying to divert my attention from something at the shoot, but I decided to relax and follow his lead on this one.

"Here? Why don't we have Roy take us to the Soho Grand or something?" I suggested. The dingy bar with the half-lit sign we stood in front of did not look appealing to me.

"No, we're going to this one," he said, leading me through the open door.

We walked inside and there were only two other people in the bar aside from the bartender. Nigel nodded to the bartender and led me to a stool in the middle of the bar.

"Two scotch, neat," he said, climbing onto the stool next to me. The bartender poured our glasses and we quietly sipped, neither of us speaking. I was lost in thought, my mind wandering from Cassidy to the OdlR shoot to Andrea. Suddenly, I remembered this bar.

I quickly turned to Nigel, who also appeared to be lost in thought. "You met David here," I whispered. It was not a question.

He nodded and finished his glass. The bartender quickly replaced it with another one. "Seventeen years today," Nigel whispered. I reached over and took his hand. It was mid-April, seventeen years ago, when Nigel's partner was struck and killed by a drunk driver. He was walking home—from this bar where he worked, and where they met. I was embarrassed that I didn't even know if Nigel celebrated the anniversary every year, or if today was an exception. I should have stayed closer to him through all that.

"Do you want to talk about him?" I asked quietly, scooting my barstool closer and draping my arm over his shoulder.

"Not really," he said, shaking my arm off his shoulder. I turned back to my drink—which had mysteriously been refilled—and took a good swig. We sat in silence for several minutes before I remembered what Andrea had said about not wanting to think about grief and wanting the distraction of someone else's problems.

I leaned over to Nigel and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Nigel."

"Thanks, Mira," he said. His mind was far and away, but that was okay.

"Can I—do you mind if I talk?"

He chuckled, "No, please do."

"Is that funny?" I asked, putting my hand on my hip.

"Yes," he said. "In all the years I've known you, I have never once heard you ask permission to speak."

"Oh, well," I smiled, "I guess I've changed." I set my third empty glass of scotch on the counter and leaned over to him, whispering, "She fucked me."

Nigel's eyes widened and he turned to face me.

"I know you said you didn't want to hear this," I said, reaching down for another sip of scotch, "but Nigel, it was so-so-sooo good. I never would have imagined how sexy it is to look down between my legs and see a gorgeous woman, her lips shimmering."

Nigel rolled his eyes. "I guess I should have found you a girlfriend a long time ago—it would have saved us all from the whole Stephen thing," he said.

I laughed. "That is true. But," I paused, "then I wouldn't have found Andrea."

He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed my shoulders gently. "I know, I was just, you know, speaking metaphorically or something." I gazed at him with an arched eyebrow, then pressed another kiss to his cheek, this one significantly more sloppy than the last, as I noticed he had to wipe his cheek with the cocktail napkin.

"So," he continued, "how was your first time with her? What else happened?"

"Nothing," I said, pursing my lips in a pout. "I'm scared. I—I don't know what to do next. She was really like a professional or something."

Nigel smiled, "Mira, I doubt Andrea is a _professional_, unless of course her sweet and innocent looks are part of her costume."

I slapped Nigel gently. "Don't say that about my lover," I said.

"Ooh, is it official?" he asked.

"Well, I told her I loved her. And she said it back."

"Aww, how sweet," Nigel teased.

"Just be serious for one minute, okay?" I asked. I was beginning to grow frustrated that Nigel was turning my personal life into a laughing matter. "Nigel, I cannot lose her. I've been able to make up excuses about the girls and the divorce not being finalized yet, but she sees through it. I mean, I told her I wanted to take it slow, but not two minutes later she was fucking me on the couch. I don't know what to do," I cried, resting my head on Nigel's shoulder. "I need a plan."

"Mira, darling, do you mean to say you have never touched her?"

"Not exactly," I admitted. "On Thursday night, she wore the Valentino red lace mini and, well, I couldn't resist those nipples through the lace," I said, blushing.

"Oh, I bet that dress looked divine on her," Nigel said. "I was wondering where that dress went off to."

I smiled and looked up at him, shaking my head. I was going to lose her like everyone else in my life.

"Mira, what are you afraid of?" Nigel asked.

"Disappointing her. Scaring her. Not pleasing her. What if I'm just not good at it? What if I look stupid or something?"

Nigel sighed. "Miranda, I know you have really high expectations, and that's great for an Editor in Chief. You're a perfectionist, and you accept nothing less than the best. However," he continued, placing his hands on my shoulders and straightening me up, "that mentality won't work with love."

I slightly pursed my lips. I never reacted well when told to stop being a perfectionist.

"You won't know what to do until you try," he said. "You won't learn what she likes until you let go a little. And, if she loves you like you say, she is probably dying for your touch. No matter how you do it, I'm sure she will be grateful."

"But Nigel, I don't even know where to begin," I whined, realizing I was beginning to sound more and more like my daughters.

"Yes, you do," he said, sighing in frustration. "You've felt her touch, and you know what feels good to you. She's a woman just like you. If you make a big deal about finding the right moment, you'll only end up disappointed."

"I suppose," I said. "You know, I should be going."

"Me too," he said, pulling out his phone and texting Roy.

"Can I drop you at home?" I asked as he helped me off the stool and to my feet.

"No, I'm just a few blocks from here. I need some fresh air. Will you be okay?"

"Of course! Thank you, Nigel," I said, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry about David, sweetie," I whispered, softly cupping his cheek.

"Thanks for coming here with me tonight and getting my mind off things," he said. I nodded and he helped me into the car before turning to walk away.

I quickly pulled out my phone and sent a text message to Andrea: "Are you still awake? On my way home now. Stopped to have a drink with Nigel after the shoot—remind me to tell you a story later."

"Hi—yes. Just starting to go through my desk. Taking longer than I anticipated because it's bringing up all sorts of memories. Was the shoot okay?" she replied.

"Yes, it was perfect. Would you like me to come by?"

"Not tonight. My place is a mess and I have piles of paper everywhere. Thx."

I sighed. "Okay. Sleep well tonight. I'll see you Thursday. xo"

"See you Thursday, goodnight! xo" she replied.

Sighing, I climbed out of the car and upstairs, taking three Advil before falling asleep.

Wednesday went by painfully slow. My head was pounding all morning—so much so that I made Emily pull the shades in my office windows. In the afternoon, I was heading out to meet Irv for a late lunch when I ran into him in the lobby. He suggested we ride together to cut on expenses, and I knew then that the afternoon would be more grueling than the morning. Not only did I have to sit with him in the car, but I couldn't text Andrea like I planned to—like I had been doing every time I was in the car this week.

At 4:30PM, we finally returned to Elias-Clarke. I simply refused to ride upstairs in the elevator with him after spending over two hours in his pitiful presence. Since there was no other reasonable way for me to prevent that situation, so I simply told him I was running late for another meeting and hopped into my own car without even entering the building.

"Take me to James' house," I said to Roy. "I'll only be a few minutes."

I pulled out my phone and typed a quick note to Andrea: "Remind me never to have lunch with Irv again."

I waited, but did not receive a response from Andrea by the time we reached James' home. I sighed and tucked my phone into my bag before heading up the stairs. I was relieved to find—again—that James was not home. Cassidy had gone back to school and seemed to be feeling just fine. I sat with them at the kitchen table for a while as they talked about their school day, and I reminded them again about moving home at the end of the year.

"Do we have to wait until school is over to come home?" Caroline asked. "I miss Patricia."

I smiled. I would have been hurt that she missed the family canine more than me, but I quickly reminded myself that she was just a child. "I'm sure Patricia misses you, too," I said. "Would you like to come over on Sunday for dinner? We can, you know, _hang out_," I said.

"Mom!" Caroline said as they both erupted in a fit of the giggles.

"Well?" I asked. Nothing warmed my heart more than the laughter of the ones I loved.

"Yes," Cassidy said, walking over and hugging me tightly. "I will come _hang out_ with you on Sunday, Mom," she said, exaggerating the words.

"Me too!" Caroline said, coming over to join her sister.

"Well, I look forward to seeing you. I'll be sure to make a special desert," I said as I stood. "I love you girls so very much." As I headed for the door, James walked in.

"Miranda?"

"Hi James," I said. "I was just leaving." He stared at me, silently demanding an explanation. "I was nearby," I sighed, "and I just wanted to stop and see that Cassidy was feeling better."

"Miranda, I told you I would call if we needed anything," he said.

I bent down and kissed both of my daughters, "Goodbye, darlings. I will see you Sunday, okay?" They nodded. "James? Walk me out to the car?" I asked as I stepped out, not wanting to have this conversation in front of the girls.

He followed, and once we were out on the porch, he shut the door and grabbed my wrist. "Look," he hissed, "I know what you're trying to do," he said. "It won't work. I do not want you at my house when I'm not home again."

"Well, maybe if you would actually be present at home, _parenting_, when the girls are here, this wouldn't be an issue!" I hissed back, sharply pulling my wrist away.

"Oh, this coming from you…_mother of the year_?" he said.

I raised my hand and struck him across the face without thinking. He immediately reached his hand up and covered his cheek and dabbed at the blood coming from the corner of his lip.

I didn't want to admit it, but my hand was stinging painfully. I bit my lip. "I'm sorry," I whispered, I shouldn't—" I felt a hollowness growing in the pit of my stomach.

"Just go," he said.

I nodded. "But James, remember that I have custody of our daughters. I do not wish to put them through any legal battles, but I can and will have them removed from your home if it comes down to it."

"I know, I know," he said, running his fingers through his thinning hair. "Let's sit down and have a conversation later this week when we've had a chance to cool off—that is, if you're not too busy," he said, mockingly.

"I will make time for this," I said. "I agree, we do need to talk. I've invited the girls for dinner on Sunday," I said, thinking maybe we could meet either before or afterwards.

"I can make it, too," he said. _Shit, _I thought, _dinner with my ex-husband and our daughters was a little too much for me. _

"Well, I've also asked my friend Andrea," I quickly added. It would be far more plausible this way than trying to explain to James why I invited her to our family dinner. "So, if that's okay with you?"

"This the one whose grandmother died?" he asked. I nodded, frankly, surprised that he remembered that detail. "Maybe she can take the girls and Patricia out to the park or something so we can talk."

"Yes," I nodded. "I'll text you later this week with a time."

He nodded and walked inside as I stepped into the car, my body still trembling from the adrenaline. I felt incredibly guilty for striking him, but I had more important issues to worry about: convincing Andrea to join us for dinner.

TBC


	23. Part 4 Chapter 6

Part 4, Chapter 6

I instructed Roy to drive me home, as I had nothing left to do at work that couldn't be finished in the morning. I quickly typed out a text message to Andrea, as was becoming my habit: "Had another argument with James. Girls and James are coming over Sunday for dinner—I hope you will join us. James and I need to talk custody arrangements and—" I paused, deleting the message. It was too much to send in a text. I needed to discuss this with her in person.

As I walked up the steps to the townhouse, I realized I was still shaking. _It was early enough that I could still arrange dinner with Andrea_, I thought. Deciding against it, I opened the door and stepped into my house. I needed some time to myself—to think about what Nigel had said, to think of what I would say to James on Sunday, and just to make a plan.

I walked into my bathroom and drew a hot, relaxing bath. I filled the tub and dropped in some essential oils, letting the aroma fill the room. I poured myself a glass of scotch and set it on the small stool, along with my phone. Peeling off my clothes, I stepped into the tub and moaned at the fabulous sensation, the hot water prickling my skin.

For a fleeting second, I felt the world melting away as I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Just then, my cell phone began to ring. It took several seconds for me to open my eyes and when I saw Andrea's name on the screen, I smiled and answered.

"Hello, darling. I was just thinking of you."

"Mi—Miranda," she said, her voice raspy and strained.

"Andrea, what's wrong?" I asked, sitting up. I heard her gasping on the other end of the line. "Take a deep breath," I said, trying to calm her, as I quickly stood from the water and began to dry myself off with my towel as I held the phone between my ear and shoulder.

All I could hear was sobbing on the other end of the line, so I quickly headed for the closet and grabbed a pair of lounge pants, a tank, and a long sweater as I tried to figure out what could be wrong.

"Darling, are you at your apartment?" I asked as I slipped on a pair of underwear.

"Yes," she said between sniffles.

"Are you injured? Do you need me to call an ambulance?" I asked as I stepped into my pants. I prayed that whatever it was, she was not physically harmed.

"I'm…I'm okay," she cried, hiccuping from her sobs.

"Okay. Darling, I'm on my way, okay. I will be there soon," I said, quickly hanging up the phone and slipping my tank over my head. I grabbed the sweater and dialed Roy. "Are you nearby? I need a ride ASAP."

"I'm still downstairs," he said. I ended the call and ran downstairs.

I slipped my feet into the heels that were still at the front door, grabbed my keys, and headed into the car. "Andrea's please—and hurry," I said.

He quickly pulled out into traffic. "If I may ask, is everything okay?"

"Yes, I think so…I hope so," I said. "You know, I don't even know where she lives. What if you weren't downstairs?" I asked aloud.

"Her address is programmed into the GPS in all of your vehicles if you should ever need," he explained. "In fact, the home addresses of all of your staff members are." He paused for a few moments as I silently contemplated that curious fact. _Wasn't that some sort of privacy violation_? I wondered.

"We'll be there in two minutes," Roy continued, jolting me from my thoughts, "and she's number 302 on the third floor. The security code to get in is 2-3-5-1."

I was shocked at how little I knew of Andrea's current living arrangements. As he pulled up to the curb, I jumped out, shouting a "thank you" behind me as I punched in the code and ran up the stairs to the third floor. Quickly finding her door, I pounded a few times before trying the knob and finding the door was open.

Closing it behind me, I quickly surveyed the boxes along the far wall and saw Andrea curled up on the floor amongst piles of papers surrounding her desk. Without thinking, I kicked off my heels and dropped my cell phone, sinking to my knees and wrapping my arms around the sobbing brunette.

"Shhhh, it's okay, I'm here," I whispered, kissing her softly on the cheek as I pulled her onto my lap. As I tried to calm her, I glanced around at the stacks of papers: college essays, notebooks, journals, and greeting cards. Looking more closely at the cards, I saw she had several with sparkly flowers that had "To my darling granddaughter" written on the front. _Of course_, I thought, putting the pieces together. Andrea mentioned that there were many memories in her desk, and I should have known her grandmother would likely come up.

I slowly coaxed her onto the couch, where she curled up against me, her face pressed tightly into my shoulder. "What can I do for you, darling?" I asked as her tears subsided. I hadn't realized it, but tears were streaming down my own cheeks, too. Andrea shook her head and I continued to hold her, softly stroking her back and gently rocking her in my arms. Though she was no longer crying, she was still physically affected by the strong emotions.

We sat like that for nearly an hour, and I was about to drift off to sleep when she stood and excused herself, avoiding eye contact. While she was in the bathroom, I walked over to the stove and began boiling water for tea.

She stepped out of the bathroom and walked up to me in the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Miranda," she said, hanging her head. "I just needed someone."

"Sweetheart," I said, taking her hand, "Do not apologize for needing someone. I'm very glad you called, and I'm sorry that I wasn't here sooner. I was just going to make some tea," I said.

"Help yourself, but I don't want any," she said. I quickly reached over and turned the kettle off.

"Do you want to talk—about the cards?" I asked her.

"No. Will you just lay with me?" she asked. She was still shaking.

"Of course. Would it be more comfortable on the bed?" I asked, taking her hand.

"Uhh, no. I—my linens are all packed," she said.

"Well, where—" I held my tongue, reminding myself to give her room. Surely, she could tell where I was going with that.

"I've been sleeping on the couch—it's a futon, actually."

I nodded. "Come back to the townhouse with me tonight? We can just relax and you can take a break from all this stuff for a while."

Andrea sharply turned her head and looked at me wide-eyed.

"What?" I asked. "You don't have to come home with me, I would just prefer if you did so I won't worry about you," I said.

"Miranda, yes, I will come with you," she said, smiling, "to take my mind off this _stuff_," she said.

I bit my lip and smiled, no doubt blushing furiously as she leaned in and kissed my cheek.

"Give me two minutes to throw a few things together," she said. Returning with her Longchamp bag slung over her shoulder, we began to head out to the car.

"Wait—_what_ are you wearing?" Andrea asked, laughing as she finally took in my appearance. "Is this a new trend?"

I shrugged my shoulders and blushed, looking down at how ridiculous I looked in drawstring cotton pants and gold-toe Prada pumps. "I was taking a bath when you called—honestly, I didn't think about anything else."

"That's so sweet," Andrea said, softly kissing me on the cheek. I was slightly self-conscious that my former assistant was kissing me on the street in the middle of New York City, but for some reason I didn't really care.

We slipped into the backseat and I reached over and cupped Andrea's cheek. "Sweetheart, are you feeling better?" I asked. She gently kissed my palm, removing it from her cheek.

Andrea smiled. "Yes, a lot better. Thank you, I needed that," she said.

"Of course, Andrea. You know, once you start your new job, you'll have less time to sit and dwell on—on _stuff_," I said, smiling. "Looking back, I think that's one of the reasons I have always worked so much—I didn't really want to think about my personal life."

Andrea turned and looked at me. "Can I kiss you?" she asked.

I grinned. "I don't really think you need to ask me anymore," I said, closing the distance between us.

I let Andrea dictate the pace as we began to exchange kisses. She was kissing me with a hunger, as if sucking the breath from my lungs would fill a void within her. She kissed me like this for several minutes, until the car came to a stop outside my house.

"Miranda," she said as I pulled away, my hand gripping the door handle, "We don't have to—I mean—I don't want to pressure you tonight. I'll be happy if I can sleep next to you like when I stayed over before, okay?"

I smiled and wrapped my arm around this amazing woman who was willing to take it slow with me—to put aside her own needs because it was what I wanted.

"No pressure," I said with a smile. I opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Plus, I still haven't given you your gift," I added, changing the subject.

Inside, I led her to the kitchen. "Can I make you some tea—or, wait, what about hot chocolate?" I asked, remembering how she turned down tea back at her place.

Her eyes lit up and she nodded, a grin on her face. I poured some milk into a saucepan and began heating it up, slowly stirring before I added the sugar and cocoa powder.

"Can I ask how things are going with your mother?" I asked quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the simmering milk.

"I don't really want to talk about that," she said.

"Okay, that's fine," I said. "You know I'm here when you're ready," I added, dipping my finger into the white liquid to test its temperature. _Still not scalding_.

"So," I continued, "I stopped by to see Cassidy and Caroline after school and ran into James." I was hoping my story would distract her.

"Is Cassidy feeling better?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, much better. She's back to school and everything. I invited them over for dinner Sunday, and I was hoping you would be able to join us," I said.

"Umm, sure, if you think it's okay."

"Of course! I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want you there," I said. The milk was beginning to froth, so I quickly kept stirring and added the sugar and dutch process cocoa. "I am not ready to tell the girls everything about us," I continued, reaching for a mug and turning off the burner. "Once the divorce is final, then maybe we can have a chat with them," I said. I gave the liquid one final stir before pouring it into a large mug. I licked the spoon before setting it in the sink to cool along with the pan.

"There is one thing," I continued, carrying the mug over to the table and setting it in front of Andrea. "James is coming to dinner."

"Oh, should I be worried?" she asked, bringing the mug to her lips. "Thank you, by the way," she added. "This is delicious."

I smiled and nodded. "No, you should not be worried about James," I said with a sigh. "He and I were arguing again over custody this afternoon, and he made a comment and I lost it. Without thinking I struck him across the face," I said, shaking my head. "Andrea, I've never struck anyone in my life. I don't know what came over me—I didn't think I was wired to react that way."

"I don't think it means you're a violent person or anything, just maybe that you're incredibly protective of your daughters," she said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. "So back to dinner on Sunday—why exactly is everyone going to be there?"

"Well, we both agreed that we needed to sit down and talk, and somehow he thought that when I said the girls were coming over for dinner, that he was invited to join."

"Don't you want to talk without the girls there?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. I explained to James that you would be there—hoping you would accept my invitation—and he actually suggested you take the girls and Patricia for a walk while we talk." I paused for a few minutes. "Would you be willing to do that?" I asked.

"So James just thinks I'm a friend?"

"Yes. You don't have to come if you don't want to. I understand this is putting you in an awkward position. Ideally, I would prefer you to be sitting with me while we talked to James…" I said, my mind drifting too far off into the future.

"It's okay. I'll be there," she said. "I look forward to spending the time with your girls, actually."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "I think they really like you, and that says a lot. They're quite selective."

Andrea smiled and squeezed my hand again. "What was that other story you were going to tell me?" she asked. "When you had drinks with Nigel?"

"Oh, that. Well, I'll give you the short version now because I'm not really ing the mood for details. Seventeen years ago, Nigel's partner was killed by a drunk driver in a hit-and-run accident. It was so many years ago, I don't mean to say I've forgotten, but it certainly has not been top of mind, especially since Nigel has been in such a good place these past few years.

"I didn't quite remember that Tuesday was the seventeen year anniversary of his death, so I was confused when Nigel first dragged me into this bar around the corner from the OdlR shoot," I continued. "It was the place where they first met, though the bar had changed ownership several times since, but I remember joining them there," I said, trying not to let my mind get too nostalgic.

"That's so sad about his partner," Andrea said. "I had no idea. I'm glad you were there to talk to him, though, and get his mind off whatever was going through his head."

I nodded and took Andrea's hand in both of my hands. "I told him about us," I said. "I'm sorry, I know I should have asked you first—but aside from you, he's the only other person in the world I truly trust," I said.

She set down her mug and took my hands in hers, "Never apologize for talking to your best friend, Miranda. I'm just glad you have someone else like that, because, well, it can be tough if you don't."

I nodded, holding back tears. I suspected she was referring to her own life, but didn't want to push the issue. "I'm going to get your present," I said, smiling and standing from the table. "It's just upstairs in my closet."

"Wait," she said, finishing the hot chocolate. "I'll come up with you," she said, standing and placing the mug in the sink.

I led Andrea upstairs and she sat on the chaise in my bedroom while I retrieved the box from my closet. "Congratulations on your new job, Andrea," I said as I handed her the square charcoal-colored box with a giant red ribbon.

Andrea immediately recognized the box, and gasped as she untied the ribbon and slipped the lid off. "Miranda, this is too much!" she said.

"Nonsense. You deserve it," I said, gently taking the timepiece from the box and slipping it on her wrist. "Plus," I said, "I had your initials engraved on the clasp already, so you really do have to keep it."

She turned her wrist over and saw the delicately engraved "AES" on the brushed platinum clasp. "Miranda, this is really gorgeous. I need a new watch, too. How did you know?"

"Well, I really wanted to get you something you could use everyday, and I know you're not much for flashy jewelry, and of course every journalist needs a good timepiece, so, I just…I hope you like it."

"I do," she said, throwing her arms around my neck. "Very much. Thank you." She admired the watch for a few more minutes before taking it off and carefully placing it in the cloth case.

"I'm so proud of you, Andrea," I said, softly kissing her on the forehead.

She smiled, but I could see tears forming in her eyes. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower?" she asked.

"Not at all," I said, leading her into the bathroom. "Let me just make sure there are fresh towels."

Walking into the bathroom, I saw that my scotch was still sitting on the stool, and I actually hadn't even drained the tub before leaving. I quickly drained the cold water and picked up the glass. Tossing a few towels into the hamper, I left one fresh one hanging on the rack.

"All yours," I said, smiling. "I'll just be out here if you need anything," I added before slipping out and shutting the door.

I drank the scotch and set the tumbler on the dresser as I slipped out of my pants and tank and selected a black silk chemise. It fit snugly around my breasts, lifting and revealing a significant amount of cleavage before cascading down to the top of my legs in black organza.

I stared at myself in the mirror for a few minutes, watching my chest rise and fall as I took a deep breath. _"She is probably dying for your touch…no matter how you do it, she'll be grateful." _I heard Nigel's words repeating in my head as I made my decision. I walked back to the bed and turned down the covers. As I tried to figure out where and how I was going to sit, I heard a strange noise from the bathroom.

Stepping closer, I pressed my hand against the closed door and quickly recognized Andrea's sobbing. I bit my lip, then quietly slipped into the steamy bathroom, glad she did not lock the door. I hesitated before moving any closer, but then remembered how she wanted to join me in the shower on Friday morning. Seeing her leaning against the corner of the shower, I quickly hung my black lingerie on the back of the door and headed for the shower.

She jumped as I opened the shower door, but my arms were quickly around her. "It's just me," I said, holding her tightly. She wiped her eyes, and I could see she was trying to regain her composure. I reached over to the opposite wall and took the loofah from the hook. "May I?" I asked, showing her the scrub sponge.

She nodded, and I squirted some body wash on before gently tracing the loofah across her shoulders and back, her arms and legs, and finally reaching around to wash her front side. I hung the loofah back on the wall, and led Andrea away from the corner, into the spray of water.

She tilted her head back, letting water sluice down her face and hair.

"Can I wash your hair, darling?" I asked, moving closer, but careful to keep my own hair out of the water stream.

She nodded, so I dispensed some cleansing conditioner into my hands and began working it through her long strands. "Let it sit a few minutes before we rinse," I said, knowing it was supposed to sit for at least five minutes, longer for longer hair.

She stepped away from the spray and turned to face me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me against her. I stifled a moan as our bodies met, my hands pressed to her chest almost instinctively. She quickly pressed her lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around her neck, deepening the kiss as she moaned into my mouth.

Andrea tasted like chocolate, and the delicious mix of scotch and chocolate in my mouth heightened my senses. The water felt cool as it splashed against our bodies, against my burning core. I moved my hips, desperate to feel her against my body. I began raising my left leg, trying to wrap it around her—anything for some contact.

"Hold on," she whispered. They were the first words she said to me since I joined her in the shower. I nodded, locking my arms tightly around her neck as I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath.

In one swift movement, she slid her hands down and lifted me up. My legs naturally wrapped around her body, my ankles crossing at her lower back. She pressed me against the marble wall of the shower, and I practically screamed; the multiple sensations of her torso against my center, the cold tile against my back, and her lips at my throat was almost too much to handle.

"Ohh, Andrea," I moaned as she continued to devour my neck and chest. I was sure she was leaving marks, but it was definitely worth a week of turtlenecks and scarves. She moved back up, taking my lips in hers as I kissed her back with an unmatched fierceness.

Minutes later, I unwrapped my legs and lowered myself to the ground. "Let's get out of here," I whispered. This time, the water was definitely cooler, and I wanted to make sure to rinse her hair before it grew too cold.

Turning the water off, I saw Andrea wrap her arms around herself. I quickly opened the shower door and wrapped her in a giant, fluffy Egyptian cotton towel before grabbing one for myself. We dried off in silence. I handed Andrea a robe and she slipped into it so she could continue drying her hair without being chilled.

I, on the other hand, was still flushed from the shower. I finished drying and slipped back into the black lingerie.

"Wow," Andrea said. I turned and was delighted to see that my choice of garment pleased her.

"Darling, is you hair curly?" I asked, distracted by the beautiful waves in her wet hair.

"Yeah, sorta," she said. "It's wavy. And annoying."

"Let me dry it?" I asked, motioning to the small stool in front of the vanity. She shrugged and walked over, taking a seat in front of the mirror.

I reached in one of my drawers and pulled out a curl-defining serum, one I used on the girls' hair sometimes. Pouring a generous amount into my hands, I ran my fingers through her hair, gently untangling as I worked in the serum. Next, I pulled out my hair dryer and attached the diffuser nozzle, softly drying the moisture from her hair.

I turned off the dryer and set it back in the basket under the counter.

"Thank you," she said, looking at me in the mirror, "thank you for everything." I smiled and took her hand, leading her into the bedroom. "Umm, let me put my pajamas on," she said, bending to reach into her bag.

I gently tugged on her hand. "I don't think you'll need them," I whispered into her ear as I trailed kisses down her jaw.

"Miranda," she protested, arching away from me. "You don't have to do this, it's okay," she said.

"Darling," I said, cupping her face with both my hands. "I love you. Let me take care of you tonight…please."

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded her head. "Yes, of course," she said.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading-reviews always welcome. :) Special thanks to rhavensfyre for some honest advice with this scene!


	24. Part 4 Chapter 7

Part 4, Chapter 7

I untied the robe and pushed it off her shoulders, letting it sink to the floor in a pile. Softly tracing her curves with my hands, I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night worshipping and loving this beautiful creature.

Taking her hand, I led her to my bed, which, I'll admit, I was mentally calling _our bed_ for the past few weeks now. I slowly climbed in after her, grazing my hands up from her toes to her hips, across her torso and breasts, up and down her arms until she pulled me up into a kiss.

I kissed her again, my tongue seeking out hers as she smiled against my lips. She eventually pulled away for air, and I took the opportunity to focus on her plump, slightly swollen lower lip. Delicately taking it between my teeth, I slowly began to suck, savoring every satisfying minute.

My lower lips began to quiver as Andrea joined in, taking my lips in her mouth. I pulled away and brushed her hair out of her deep brown eyes. Her pupils were heavily dilated and her cheeks were flushed with what could only be arousal. The ferocity of her gaze alone did more for me than anyone else ever could.

I kissed her again on her lips, swiftly moving to trail kisses down her neck. The salty taste of her smooth skin was heaven in my mouth and I needed to taste every inch of her. I painstakingly did just that—sucking on her fingers, laving my tongue across her navel, and even kissing the backs of her knees. Nothing was left untouched, except perhaps where she wanted me most.

As I crawled back up her body, I slowly dipped my fingers between her legs and held my fingers before my mouth, inhaling sharply. The intoxicating scent was irresistible, and I proceeded to suck my own fingers dry.

A deep, guttural moan escaped Andrea's lips as I reached my hand lower, resting just above her core. "Is this okay?" I asked, surprised at how feral my voice sounded.

She nodded, letting go a low howl as I plunged my fingers in all the way. She was so wet, it felt like scalding milk around my fingers. I was mesmerized by this new sensation and moaned as I felt her muscles contract against my digits.

I was too intrigued to consider the reasons why I never dared explore my own body in this way. Maybe it was the stigma surrounding female sexuality, or some self-imposed shame I feared. Regardless, I had to force myself to focus on the brunette writhing against my palm to keep from exploring own body right there. The thought of her fluids inside me sent a shiver down my spine.

Andrea was quite literally squirming against my hand. I leaned over and slipped my other arm underneath her, holding her close as I curled my fingers inside her. Her muscles tightened and she arched against me, a fresh flood of hot moisture coating my hand. I pressed my lips to her exposed neck, feeling her pulse beating rapidly beneath my mouth as I slowly extracted my fingers from their warm cave.

Again, licking my fingers clean, I slid down on the bed and gently parted her thighs, settling comfortably on my stomach. From this position, her scent was overwhelming, and there was nothing that could stop me from tasting her waters straight from the source.

I let out a muffled moan as I pressed my lips to her folds, her scent and taste combining in a powerful way. I wanted to take my time memorizing her flavor, but judging by the way her hips were jumping off the bed, she wouldn't last that long.

I reached my arms under her legs and placed my hands on her hips, stilling her movements while I pressed on with my lips and tongue. She gasped as my nose brushed against her clitoris, and I moaned into her body at the fresh influx of juices.

"Mmhhandrhea…youhhm tahstemm…mmlihke vehlmvhet…mmhso mmghhood," I panted.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho goooood," she cried, thrusting her hips against my face again. I removed my hand from her hip, and, with my fingers planked together, I began vigorously moving back and forth, in circles against her aching bud while Andrea shouted something unintelligible and slammed her hand down on the mattress.

Again, I felt fresh juices pouring from her body as my tongue quickly lapped at her velvety lips. Andrea reached down and gently ran her fingers through my hair, softly tugging me up.

I could feel how wet my lips and chin were as I crawled up her body. Pulling me closer, Andrea proceeded to lick her sticky fluids from my chin and upper lip, kissing me hard as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, softly brushing her cheek. She closed her eyes and nodded. "What else can I do for you, my love?" I asked.

"Just hold me," she said quietly.

I rolled over and set my head on the pillow, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. Andrea turned and curled up against me, draping her arm around my waist as I wrapped my arms snugly around her. I wasn't sure which one of us fell asleep first, but I liked to imagine we sort of fell asleep _together_.

Promptly at 5:20AM, my alarm went off, sending a shrill beeping sound through the early morning darkness. Andrea groaned. I kissed the top of her head and slipped out of bed, trying to disturb her as little as possible. I smiled as I stood next to the bed. Her eyes were tightly shut as she reached over for my pillow, curling up against it in my absence.

Smiling, I picked up my cell phone and walked to the other side of the bedroom, dialing a number on speed dial.

"Yes, Emily?," I said. "Cancel my morning."

I glanced over at Andrea who turned her head, seeming to wake up at the sound of my voice.

"Yes, I will be in at 12:30," I continued. Andrea propped herself up on her elbows and gave me a bewildered look. "Yes, just reschedule it. I have something much more important to attend to," I said, smiling as I ended the call with my assistant.

Setting the phone on my nightstand, I rejoined Andrea in bed, kissing her softly as I sunk into the pillows. I was slightly aware that Andrea's hands were now roaming over my body, but it wasn't until she slipped her fingers underneath the organza that I attempted to stop her.

"No, darling," I said, "this is about you. Let me take care of you."

Andrea looked down at me with the saddest pout on her face. I couldn't resist those big brown eyes. Laughing, I gently stroked her cheek. "I love you, Andrea."

She smiled as she began tracing her fingers across my abdomen in slow, steady circles. "Miranda," she whispered, "I want to touch you. I want to plunge my long, long fingers inside you, exploring you inside and out."

My breath hitched at her words and I was conscious of my racing pulse. _Good lord, what was she doing to me?_

"I want to pump my fingers inside of you. Pumping slowly at first, then fast as lightning, then slowly again until my entire fist is inside you," she continued.

I moaned—loudly—and quickly reached up my hand to cover my mouth, embarrassed by my desperate reaction to her words. She smiled and lifted my hand away as she continued tracing circles on my skin, just above my curls. I could have sworn her hand was inching its way lower and lower—either that, or my body was writhing farther back.

"I want to hear you," Andrea whispered. "I want to hear what you will sound like when I take your clit in my teeth and gently…bite."

I groaned, and it sounded like someone punched me in the stomach. But, I couldn't help it. I was panting in confusion. "Oh — god!" I cried, "What's — how is this — even happening?" I wailed, struggling to hold onto one last ounce of control.

Andrea turned her attention to my chest, softly tracing my breasts, cautious to avoid my taut, darkened nipples. I wanted nothing more than for her to rip that constraining fabric off of me.

"Do you think I can make you come like this?" she whispered in my ear, her hot breath sending shock waves through my body.

"Uungh," I moaned, nodding my head. I needed her to give me release.

"Imagine my fingers," she whispered, "Imagine them pumping in and out, in and out. The smell of your arousal lingers in the air and the only sounds are the sucking and squirting of my fingers against your drenched folds."

I briefly held my breath, trying to be silent. Even though her hands were not on me, I could still hear my lower lips opening and closing, softly sucking and popping as I moved my legs.

"Imagine yourself squirming, circling your hips and bucking upwards to the sky as you search for something, anything to give you release," she continued, "but you can't come yet."

I screamed and kicked my heels into the mattress. Reaching my hand out, I found Andrea's and squeezed tightly as I tried to still the roaring beast within.

"Then imagine that one swift flick of my thumb across your clit releases raging waters, endless rivers of wetness flowing from your core," she said.

I curled upwards, open-mouthed and wide-eyed as muscles clenched all over my body. My right leg began twitching violently. My breaths were short and irregular, and I felt my voice tied up in the back of my throat as I came.

Before I realized it, Andrea was situated between my legs, lapping at my wetness. Using her teeth, and then her thumb as she described, I came again and again.

"Oh, fuck, Andrea," I sighed as she crawled up next to me. My heart still felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, but other than that, I never felt so entirely relaxed in my entire life.

"Good morning," she said with a smile, kissing me softly on the lips.

TBC in part 5 :)


	25. Pt 5 - Always at my side

Part Five: Always at My Side

Chapter 1

Spending the morning in bed would soon become one of the small pleasures in my life, I was sure of it. The simple act of having my coffee poured for me in the morning was the kind of thing that made my heart swell.

"Andrea, you know you're welcome to stay here all day," I said.

"I know," she said, smiling. "Thank you, but I need to go deal with those papers back at my place."

"Of course," I said, sipping my piping hot coffee as I leaned against the breakfast bar. "If you'd like, I can come by this evening to help. I do believe we have a date scheduled already," I said.

"Oh, that's right, today's Thursday," Andrea said. "I'll order something for us for dinner—but fair warning, I might not really be the best company."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"It's just exhausting going through all that," she said.

"Sweetheart," I said, setting my coffee mug down and sitting in the stool next to her. "I know it's hard, and I'm not going to tell you that it gets better, because honestly, I don't know if that emptiness ever really goes away. It's up to you to change how you think about it, how you react to it."

She looked up at me, tears brimming in her eyes. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, chuckling, though I realized that maybe I needed more of an explanation. "I still have a shoebox of letters and cards from my mother—on the top shelf of my closet," I said. "Every time I walk into my closet, I see it. I know it's there, and it is a nice way of ensuring that I think of her everyday. Whenever I switch out my seasonal wardrobe or have to pull down one of the vintage items up there, I pull out the box and sit on the floor. Her handwriting alone brings tears to my eyes, but I have almost every note memorized," I said.

"Wow," Andrea said.

"You know, I have some cards in there that she gave the girls when they were younger. I don't think Caroline and Cassidy have ever seen them," I said. "She wrote the most loving words in those cards. Sometimes, I wish that I would have been on the receiving end of that selfless, unconditional love. But, I guess a mother's love is always different because you love your children while you train them to exist independently of you, to find a love of their own," Miranda said, looking up and blinking furiously to keep the tears from falling.

We sat in silence. I'm sure Andrea was well aware that I just dipped further into my past, into the part of me I've never shared with anyone. After a few minutes, I noticed tears streaming down Andrea's cheeks. I stepped off my chair and stood next to hers, awkwardly wrapping my arms around her as she was perched on the counter-height stool.

I wiped the tears from her cheeks and softly kissed her on the cheek before returning to my coffee. "Is your grandma buried somewhere or did your family keep the ashes?" I asked cautiously.

Andrea sniffled. "Neither," she said. "My grandpa was in the army during WWII, and he will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery. They have a shared plot. Right now, she's in the columbarium there as a sort of holding place until they can bury her on top of my grandpa's casket," she explained.

I nodded and took a sip from my coffee. "Have you been there?" I asked.

"No. We just had the memorial service in Jersey. Mom and Dad took her urn there a few days after the service."

I was surprised she hadn't revealed this earlier. Did I somehow keep her from going with them? "Sweetheart, do you think you might like to go visit sometime?" I asked.

She looked up at me in disbelief. "Yo—you would do that?"

"Of course," I said. "It's only about a four-hour drive from here." I gently slid my finger under her chin, tilting her head upwards. "I want to be there with you."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "Yes, I'd like that."

I smiled. "I'll take care of the arrangements. Would you like to go this weekend or is it too soon?"

"This weekend would be good," she said. "Between moving and the new job, I think the next month or so will be too busy."

"I agree," I said. "Would you prefer Roy take us—or would you like me to drive?"

She thought for a moment, then quickly responded, "Roy. Please." I nodded again before finishing my coffee. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already past noon and I needed to leave.

"Miranda? Have I told you how amazing you are?" Andrea said.

I smiled and stepped against the chair as she spread her legs to make room. She wrapped her arms around my waist as I placed my hands on her shoulders. "Hmm, yes, I do believe you have," I said, "but maybe you should tell me again just in case."

Andrea smiled and softly pressed her lips against mine, careful not to smudge the sheer pink lip stain.

"Mm, darling, I have to go," I said, pulling away. "Ride with me to work?—then Roy can drop you off at your place," I suggested.

"Okay," she said, nodding and gathering her bag.

Once in the car, she turned to me. "Thank you, Miranda."

"What for?"

"For last night, for rushing to my apartment, for…for loving me," she said.

"Darling, it is I who should be thanking you. I never thought my life could be so fulfilling—especially after I hit fifty," I said. "Thank _you_, Andrea Elizabeth, for loving _me._" As we pulled up to the curb outside Elias-Clarke, I reached over and pressed my index finger to her lips. "Hold that thought," I said. "I will be over tonight around 7 or 8PM. _Call me if you need anything today_," I reiterated. I needed her to know that if she was feeling upset or anything, I would be there.

She nodded and gave a little wave as I stepped out. Licking my lips, I marched into the building like I was preparing for battle. Lord knows I would need my most intimidating look with the meetings I had scheduled for today.

As I entered my office, I saw the team already assembled for the run-through at 12:30. For once, I was hoping they would be running late. "Can no one here tell time?" I asked Emily.

"No, Miranda, I'm sorry," Emily said as we walked.

I stopped and turned to look at her. "No? No one here is capable of telling time?"

"Yes. No! That's not what I meant," she said, clearly flustered.

"Relax, Emily," I whispered. "Send everyone back here in ten minutes—precisely at 12:30. I need a few minutes," I explained.

"Of course," she said, marching off and ushering everyone from my office while I set my things at my desk. Emily turned and gave me a strange look before stepping out and shutting the office door.

Before my computer was even turned on, Nigel showed up, knocking and letting himself in, apparently confusing a closed door with a welcome mat. "And where have you been?" he asked, sitting in the chair across from my desk.

"Really, Nigel," I said, putting on my glasses and sifting through the papers that had been left on my desk that morning. "I don't have time to chit-chat today—I'm incredibly busy."

"You were in bed this morning, weren't you?" he asked, tilting his head and raising one eyebrow. "Ha! I knew it!" he said, taking my shocked expression as confirmation.

"Well, so what if I was," I said, coolly shrugging my shoulder. "Everyone is entitled to sleep now and again."

"Your place or hers?" he asked.

"Nigel Raymond Kipling, we are not having this conversation here!" I snapped. There is a magazine to be published, and well, by the looks of things yesterday, we'll be lucky if we sell one copy next month."

Nigel rolled his eyes at me—a luxury afforded to very few people in my life. "Was it at least good enough to be worth the time?" he asked.

I tried to purse my lips, but my smile seeped through. "Ohh-ho-ho goddd," I groaned, sitting back in my chair and removing my glasses. "You have no idea."

"Wow," he said. "I can't wait to hear all about it, but you, sweetie, should probably take a drink of water before your throat goes dry," he said, handing me my glass of chilled Pellegrino.

I smiled and shook my head. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you back for another," I paused to glance at the clock, "six minutes. Now, shoo!"

"Yes, your highness," he said, giving a small curtsy before heading out. Turning back to my emails and papers, I quickly got a sense for what the rest of my day looked like. If I was lucky, I could be out by 6:30PM, and that meant more time to spend with Andrea.

The run-through went surprisingly well, and I was quite impressed with the work Nigel and his team prepared on the layouts. _I do have a highly competent staff_, I thought to myself.

A few minutes past five, Emily was bringing in several skirts I asked her to pick up from Calvin Klein when my cell phone rang. Seeing it was Andrea, I answered immediately, though I was careful, knowing Emily could hear.

"Hello, sweetie, is everything okay?" I asked. I thought it best to pretend I was speaking with one of the girls until the divorce was settled, and until Andrea and I had a chance to talk about all this.

"Miranda," she whispered, "my fingers still smell like you. I can't wait until you come over and I can fuck you—"

I quickly ended the call, dropping my phone to my desk as I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I could feel that I was flushed, and was certain that a familiar moisture was quickly developing.

I looked up and Emily was staring at me, speechless. _Had she realized what just happened? How could I explain hanging up on my daughter?_ "Emily," I called, realizing I needed no explanation for my actions, "the skirts, Emily?"

"Oh, right, yes," she stumbled, quickly explaining the selection before me.

I glanced up at the clock. Without interruption, I would surely be able to finish my to-do list for the day. I told Emily I was not to be disturbed and shut the door, focusing on the spreads before me.

_Buzz…buzz. _My phone vibrated with a new message: "You hung up on me!"

I sighed, reminding myself that this was her second-to-last day with nothing to do. "I'm sorry. I was not alone. I won't make it tonight if I keep getting distracted!" I wrote.

Then, biting my lip, I was worried my words were too harsh. "See you at 7. xo," I added, silencing my phone as I tossed it back into my bag.

By 6:50, I was finished with both revising the Summer spread and finalizing the quarterly expense report for Irv. Leaving both with Emily, I took my bag and headed downstairs, where Roy whisked me away to Andrea's.

"On my way—Need me to bring anything?" I texted.

"Just yourself. :)" she replied.

Smiling, I closed my eyes, but then quickly remembered about the plans to visit Arlington. "Roy?"

"What can I do?" he asked.

"Are you available Saturday?"

"Of course. When and where?"

"Well," I said, "I'm going with Andrea to Arlington to visit her grandma's ashes. I'm afraid we're looking at a twelve-hour day."

"Not a problem," he said. "Best if we leave before 7AM, though."

"That's fine. Shall we say 6:30 at the townhouse?"

"I'll be there," he said. He pulled up to the curb outside Andrea's building. "Shall I wait?"

"No, I'll take a cab," I said. "I don't know how long I'll be," I explained.

"Sounds good. If you happen to be at an, um, alternate location in the morning, just send me a text," he said with a wink.

_Good lord, was everyone privy to my sex life now?!_ Rolling my eyes, I shut the door and headed up the stairs to Andrea's apartment.

Before I could knock, she opened the door. It looked as if everything was packed up. The main lighting was turned off, and a single candlestick sat on the table next to a bottle of prosecco and a box of pizza.

"I hope you're hungry" she said, smiling.

"Yes, famished," I said, realizing I hadn't had much more than coffee and water all day. "Pizza actually smells delicious right now," I said.

She walked over to the table and poured two glasses of wine, then opened the pizza box and proceeded to dish out slices.

"What kind of pizza is this?" I asked, turning my head at the strange shape of some of the pieces.

"Oh, it's the veggie one, I hope that's okay," she said.

"Yes, that's fine. I meant the _shape_,"

"Oh. Rico, the pizza guy, has had this crush on me since I moved in. Since Nate's been gone, he seemed to think he has a chance with me, even though I tried to tell him I wasn't interested. He found out I'm moving next week, and I guess this was his last-ditch effort to win my heart," she said.

"So it _is_ heart-shaped?" I asked.

"Yeah, they always are," she shrugged.

"I take it you order pizza often?" I teased.

She smiled and nodded.

"Well, there is no one I'd rather share a heart-shaped pizza with," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"Mmm," she hummed, kissing me softly. "I missed you today," she said.

"It hasn't even been seven hours, darling," I said with a laugh.

"Still. It only takes a second to miss someone."

"You're absolutely right," I said, kissing her again. "Was your day okay? I see everything is cleaned up."

"Yeah," she said. "I picked up this cigar box at the thrift store down the street, and I'm keeping my cards in there for now," she said. "It's cool-looking enough that I can keep it on my bookshelf so I'll always see it."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Andrea," I said. Just then, my growling stomach interrupted. "So, about that pizza?" I said as Andrea giggled.

Dinner was simple but wonderful, mostly because I was sharing it with her. After we finished, I untucked my blouse from my skirt and loosened the side zipper as I tucked my legs underneath me on the futon. She curled next to me, and we finished the bottle of sparkling wine while she flicked through the channels until I made her stop at the movie _White Christmas_.

"A Christmas movie in April?" she asked.

"Have you _never_ seen this?"

"Nope, sorry."

I rolled my eyes. "This is a classic. We are watching it. It just started a few minutes ago," I explained as Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen took the stage with their sky blue ostrich feather fans.

Nearly two hours later, I woke to Andrea's lips on my cheek. "Your movie's finished," she said.

"Mmm," I groaned, stretching my arm but keeping my eyes closed.

"I, uh, didn't mean to wake you," she said. "If you'd like to stay, we're already in bed," she added.

I opened my eyes and looked up at her. "I'd love to," I said, "but you have to remember I'm fifty years old. My bones require a thick, supportive mattress," I explained as I tried to stretch my back.

"Is that your way of asking me to spend the night again?" she asked with a smirk. "Because, I have to say, that's pretty hot."

I rolled my eyes at her again. "Andrea, you can't possibly continue to sleep on this," I said. "I've just been on it for two hours and I'm already stiff."

"Well, I can't spend every night at your house, Miranda," she said.

I could see she was getting frustrated. "I know, sweetheart. Once you move into your new place, who knows, I might just be spending every night with you," I said, reaching for her hand and tugging her off the couch. "Just until you're able to move in, please, I'd feel better if you stayed with me."

"Okay," she said, feelings of guilt motivating her decision. "I guess I'm living out of a suitcase as it is," she added.

"Then it's settled. You can have the entire guest room to yourself if you'd like," I said as I texted my backup driver.

Within minutes, Andrea rolled her small suitcase from her bedroom. "Okay, ready," she announced, setting her bag at the door.

"Our ride is downstairs," I said. "Thank you again for a lovely dinner."

Andrea smiled as she took my hand and led me out of her apartment.

Back at the townhouse, Andrea carried her suitcase up to the guest bedroom and began unpacking a few items. I quietly followed her and stood in the doorway, mesmerized by her simple movements: opening a drawer, turning to look back at her suitcase, re-folding her pants.

Her fingers danced softly across the denim fabric and I was taken back to the day I first saw her on the street, how she held out her hand to introduce herself in the lobby. Even though she was frumpy in appearance, there was something about her that caught my eye. It couldn't have been anything like fate—figures like Miranda Priestly never fell in the good graces of the gods. _So, what was it?_ I wondered. Andrea was a truly brilliant woman—strong, loyal, courageous, beautiful. Regardless of why she intrigued me at first, the fact of the matter was that I, for the first time in my life, felt undeserving of this beautiful creature's love.

"Miranda?"

I quickly shook my head, bringing my thoughts back to the present. "Hmm?"

"I asked if everything was okay," she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around me.

"Mmm," I sighed. "Yes. Everything is perfect." Just then, I heard Emily enter the foyer, placing the Book on the table and the dry cleaning in the closet. The redhead's discretion never failed to impress me. Surely, she wasn't oblivious to what had been going on over the past few months, but she never once mentioned it. "I need to go over the Book," I said, slowly extricating myself from her warm embrace.

"Okay," she said, "I'm a little tired anyway, so I think I'll just head to bed if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I said. "Wait—you're planning on sleeping with me tonight, right?" I asked, suddenly on the verge of panic.

She smiled. "Of course. I'll be waiting for you," she added.

The next morning, I woke with my arms around Andrea, and I seriously began to doubt inviting her to stay the next few days. I was growing spoiled—entirely too comfortable—with the situation.

"Mmm, morning," she mumbled, turning over as I reached to silence the alarm.

I bent down and kissed her, smiling against her lips as her tongue lazily tried to pry my lips open, resulting in her licking my lips. I brushed her hair out of her face and bent down, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. "I can't be late today, darling. I'll never hear the end of it from Nigel," I said as I began to climb out of bed, my foot stepping on something unfamiliar.

I gasped as I stepped out and picked up the Book from the bedroom floor. Were it not for the physical evidence, I would have forgotten all about bringing the Book to bed and Andrea kicking it over the edge. Several pages were ripped, but more noticeably was the cardboard cover with its dented corners. Sighing, I set the Book on the dresser and continued with my morning routine.

At _Runway_, it was Nigel who met me at the elevator, not Emily. I arched my eyebrow before stepping out, silently begging for explanation. "Mira, you need to tell Emily what's going on," Nigel said quietly, taking the Book from me. "She's practically worked herself up into an anxiety attack but she's afraid to tell you what she's seen."

"What exactly has she—"

"Wait—what on earth happened to the Book?" Nigel interrupted. "My god, it's been through ten rounds."

"It's just the cover," I said, opening the glass door. "I dropped it. That's all."

"That's all—my ass!" Nigel snickered, heading down the hall to the Art Department.

"Emily," I said, tossing my coat and bag on what would forever be Andrea's desk, I nodded for her to follow me into my office and quietly shut the door behind us.

"Miranda, your schedule is—"

"I know. That's fine. I trust you," I said, walking over to the sofa and gesturing for her to follow. She hesitated before taking a seat. "Emily, I meant that," I said. "I never have to worry about any of the…_stuff…_I give you. I know you will take care of it urgently, professionally, and discreetly."

"Yes, of course, Miranda. Thank you," she said, blushing slightly.

"Now, will you please tell me what's on your mind?" I asked patiently.

"Oh, no, I don't want to bore you," she said.

"Emily," I warned, my tone significantly harsher. "Tell me."

"It's none of my business, really, and I know I shouldn't be looking, but it's quite impossible to hang something in the closet without noticing other items on the rack, or setting the Book on the table and not noticing someone's keys, or not noticing someone's voice," she rattled, clearly flustered.

"Relax," I said, reaching over and placing my hand on her forearm. She gasped, and I pulled away, realizing that probably increased her anxiety. "I'm seeing someone," I said quietly, my hands in my lap. "We are keeping it quiet and professional for a while, especially since the divorce is not yet finalized," I said. Seeing her fingers still trembling, I decided she had earned further explanation. "We were friends, and sort of became more than that—but nothing happened until Stephen and I were legally separated. This was entirely unrelated to my failing marriage." A quick glance at the redhead told me to proceed a bit further. "You may know this person, but I will not say anymore without their presence." I cringed internally at my intentional misuse of the plural possessive pronoun, but I knew I needed to refrain from saying anything that could come back to hurt Andrea, especially since we hadn't talked about it.

"Okay…" Emily said quietly. "Thank you for sharing that. You know, if there's anything I can do—"

"Keep doing what you've been doing," I said, slowly standing up and walking to the window. "I need to keep this under the radar for the next few weeks—as long as possible, really. I trust you to be discreet, Emily. Do not fail me."

Emily let out a high-pitched squeal as she jumped up and nodded, heading for the door. "Send Nigel in when you see him— I need to speak with him about Galliano before 9," I said, sinking into my desk chair. "That's all."

I knew Emily wasn't the conversationalist, but I was assured by her reaction that she would continue as always, perhaps less anxious now that she wasn't keeping any secrets from me. Before scanning my inbox, I picked up my phone and dialed Andrea's number.

"Hey," she answered. "Is everything okay?"

"_Hey_ is not an appropriate telephone greeting," I said, wrinkling my nose. "But yes, everything is fine."

"Soooo, what's up?"

"I spoke with Emily this morning."

"About—?"

"Us. Well, sort of."

"Are you serious?"

"I just told her I was seeing someone and that we needed to keep it quiet until at least the divorce was finalized. I reassured her that nothing happened before I was separated."

"Wait—so you basically tell your assistant that you're screwing your old assistant and…what's this about you being separated?"

_Shit_. I stood and shut my office door before continuing. "Andrea, please listen to me. I only told Emily because she was on the verge of a panic attack or something because she's been seeing items that are not mine in my house—your keys, your coat—she even heard your voice. I couldn't risk her raising suspicions, so I told her I needed her discretion. Don't worry, she won't tell anyone."

_"That's_ what you think I'm worried about? Miranda, I don't care if the world knows. I mean, I don't want this to screw up your relationship with your girls, but seriously. Did it cross your mind that maybe you should discuss this with me before telling everyone whose bed I've been sleeping in?"

"Andrea, please," I begged. "It's not like that. I didn't tell anyone anything like that. I just confirmed Emily's suspicions to make her, well, less suspicious."

"Did it ever occur to you that I have a job, too? I have family that I'd like to protect from this information, too? You have no idea what news like this would do to my relationship with my family, especially if they heard it from television or saw it online."

"Andrea, please relax. I'm sorry. I should have called you first." I said, sinking into the couch as tears began streaming down my face. Through the silence of the phone line, I could hear the echo of my sniffles as I tried to hide my tears. I wasn't sure if she had hung up, and I certainly was not ready to take that chance.

Several minutes later, she spoke. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, sounding as if she, too, had been crying. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just wish you would stop making decisions for me and start letting me in…I mean, if you really want this like you say you do—"

"Andrea don't say another word," I said, interrupting her. "Don't even think it. I have meant every word I have said to you. I _do_ want a relationship with you. I _do_ love you so much, it kills me to know I've hurt you." I took a deep breath, not sure what to say next. "Can we talk more tonight or should I come home now?"

"No, don't leave work because of this. God forbid we cause more suspicion. Sorry—I shouldn't have."

"No," I said, sighing. "You have every right to say that and to feel the way you feel."

We sat on the phone for several minutes, listening to each other breathe. I don't think either one of us was sure where the conversation was headed, but neither of us wanted to be responsible for ending it.

"Are you legally separated from Stephen?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Why didn—when?" she stammered.

"About three weeks ago," I said.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Andrea, please. It's no excuse, but at the time, we had just kissed and it was all very new for me. It's not that I didn't trust you, but I guess I just didn't believe that you were willing to wait. I thought you would use the separation to push me into something I wasn't sure I was ready for."

"Miranda, I would never do that. I didn't pressure you, did I?"

"No, sweetheart. You did not. Actually, I still find myself in disbelief when I think of how wonderful you were about it all. I didn't know what to think at the time, though. Leslie told me that Stephen could have petitioned to take the girls away and she warned me not to give him a reason. I was petrified. I'm sorry I kept that from you."

"I understand your fears," she said, "but once we decided to, you know, be together, why didn't you say anything then?"

"What?" I asked, suddenly getting defensive, "You expected me to pull away from your arms and say, 'oh, by the way, I'm separated from my husband so this technically isn't cheating…'?"

"Wow. I don't even know what to say to that. I mean—this is all about you, isn't it? It always has been."

"Andrea, what do you mean?" I asked.

"This. You pretend that you actually care, but you're just worried about what other people will think, about how it will look to the public."

"Andrea, please don't say that. I know you're upset, but you're not thinking clearly.

"No, for once I am thinking clearly. I'm not under your spell anymore, so the games won't work," she said. "I won't be here when you get home tonight—I'll stay with a friend until I can find a new place," she added before hanging up.

"Aaaargh!" I shouted, throwing the cordless telephone across the room, smashing a vase. Just then, Nigel walked in.

"Uh, you wanted to see me?" he said, hesitating as he surveyed the damage to the vase.

"Just go away, Nigel," I said.

"I don't think so," he said, carefully picking the phone up from the shattered glass and replacing it in its cradle on my desk.

"I failed," I said quietly, burying my face in my hands. "It was perfect, and I ruined it like I ruin everything good in my life," I cried.

"Now, get yourself together," Nigel said, leading me to the bathroom. "You have a magazine to run and Irv wants to meet to go over the budget you sent him," Nigel explained.

I shrugged and picked up a tissue, dabbing at my eyes. Nigel brought a cup of ice and carefully wrapped a few cubes in a washcloth to help reduce the swelling around my eyes. "Now, I have somewhere to be right now. Will you be okay, Mira?"

"Yes. Thank you," I said quietly. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before hurrying out of the office.

"Six? Andy? Are you here?" Nigel called after letting himself into the townhouse.

"Nigel? What's wrong? What are you doing here?" she said, rushing downstairs to meet him. "It's Miranda," he said.

"Oh god," Andrea said, sinking down to sit on the stairs. He wouldn't have believed Andy capable of going paler than she already was had he not seen it with his own eyes.

"What did you say to her?" he asked.

"Wait—is she—is she okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know. She smashed a vase…_before_ her meeting with Irv. Six, what happened between you two?"

Andrea pursed her lips. "It's weird. I don't feel like I should tell you, since the whole thing started with her telling someone without telling me first."

Once Nigel wrapped his brain around that, he realized she could only be talking about Emily. "I'm the one who told Miranda she needed to talk to Emily. She was almost losing it, and I know Miranda needs a reliable assistant right now."

"I get that, but she didn't tell me first. I have just as much to lose as she does if word gets out that we've been together. My family would be shocked to find out I'm in a relationship with a married woman twice my age, not to mention my former boss. John would surely have to take away my new job if others thought I didn't earn it outright, and well, I think we all know Miranda would deny everything and throw me under the bus," Andrea said.

"Miranda can be an idiot," Nigel said. "She thinks too much for her own good. She doesn't know how to separate life and work, so she creates strange mixes, like scheduling appointments with you and coming up with strategies to minimize the press with Leslie. She's learning," he said, "and if you can believe it, she's gotten a lot better since you've been around."

"She lied to me," Andrea said, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

"I doubt that," Nigel said. "As you know, she's very logical and particular. I can guarantee that in her mind, it wasn't a lie. Sometimes she does get too caught up in the particulars to realize she's hurting others, though."

"She's legally separated from Stephen. Did you know that?"

"No…I didn't."

"Three fucking weeks ago, and she didn't tell me."

"Well, she must have had a reason. She told you now, didn't she?"

"It was on accident. Why are you sticking up for her after she screwed you in a heartbeat in Paris?"

"Mira is like a sister to me. I've seen her at her worst, but I've also seen her truly happy. Andy, whatever you said to her this morning—it hurt her, badly. Your instinct might be to give her time, but time will only make it easier for her to build her walls back up, higher and stronger," he said.

Andrea took a deep breath and turned to Nigel. "I love her, Nigel. I know she's difficult—hell, that's one of the reasons why I love her—I just didn't think she would turn on me."

"You need to talk to her in person," he said. "And I need to get back to the office. Want a lift?"

Andrea nodded and gathered up her bag, following Nigel out to the car. The driver dropped her at the Starbucks across the street where she sat for a few minutes, contemplating her plan. Finally summoning the courage, Andrea dialed her cell phone, only to be met immediately with my voicemail greeting. "Great. She turned her phone off or she's ignoring my calls," Andrea said out loud.

"Andrea?"

"Emily! What are you—oh, I guess you're getting coffee," she said, seeing the redhead holding a tray of three venti nonfat no-foam lattes.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I need to talk to Miranda."

"She gave explicit instructions not to take your calls today," Emily explained.

"But I need to see her, Em. Please. We had a misunderstanding this morning."

"Yes, and I had to clean up the shattered vase. I can't let you up there," she said.

"Okay, when will Miranda be in the town car next?"

"She has an 11:30, so she will be leaving shortly," Emily explained. "Oh no—you can't."

"Em, stay out of it. Just see that she doesn't miss this appointment."

"If you're just going to put her in a horrid mood again, I refuse to pick up any more shards of glass in this silk dress!"

"Relax. Go take her coffee before she fires you," Andrea added, sending Emily scampering away.

Andrea quickly headed across the street after Emily. Finding Roy in the line of town cars, she hopped in the backseat.

"Andy! How's it going?" he asked.

"Ehh, it's been better," she answered honestly. "I need your help."

"Sure, what can I do?"

"You're supposed to take Miranda somewhere at 11:30, right?"

"Yes, her therapist. She should be down in the next five or ten minutes," he said.

"Okay. I need to talk to her privately, so I'm going to just stay here in the car until she gets in, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Andy. Should I still drive her to the appointment?"

"Um, yes," Andrea said. "But just keep the screen up and wait until we tell you to head back."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, offering Andrea a mock salute. "Anything else?"

"Do these doors have child-proof locks?"

"Yes, I believe so," he said. "You need me to ensure Miranda doesn't run off on you?"

"If you don't mind?"

"Sure thing," he said, hopping out of the driver seat and engaging the child safety locks on each of the rear doors. "All set. When the doors are unlocked, they can only be open from the outside, not the inside."

"Perfect," Andrea said, sinking back into the corner of the town car while Roy waited on the curb.

Promptly at 11:15, I marched off the elevators, my Versace sunglasses shielding my eyes from view. The ice hadn't really helped reduce the puffiness after my morning of crying, and even Irv felt the need to call attention to my red eyes. I nodded to Roy as I slipped into the backseat, closing my eyes and sighing.

"Miranda?"

I softly smiled at the familiar voice, but quickly opened my eyes and turned, surprised to see Andrea sitting next to me. Despite our argument earlier, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and hold her.

"Andrea—I thought—you said—" I couldn't even string a sentence together as I tried to recall her last words to me, something about not being there when I returned home.

"I overreacted," she said, reaching over and taking my hand cautiously. "I'm sorry. I still am a little upset that you're not telling me everything, but I don't want to lose you over this."

"You mean—wait, you're still…_here?_"

"Yes. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

I smiled and quickly moved closer, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss as she guided my hips to straddle her lap, allowing me to deepen the kiss. Our tongues clashed, my hands moved across every inch of her face, neck, and upper body in a frenzy. I was hungry for her, hysterically kissing her as tears streamed from my eyes, the saltiness mixing with the taste of coffee in my mouth.

She moved her hand from my hip, cupping my cheek gently as she pushed me away. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, desperate to catch my breath and resume kissing her. "I'm sorry," I managed to say between breaths. "Please…give me another chance, Andrea."

"Yes, of course," she said quickly, shifting me off her lap and onto the seat next to her. She kissed me on the cheek and pulled out a tissue, dabbing the tears from my eyes. "We can talk more later," she said, "but I didn't want to interfere with your appointment."

I glanced out the window and saw we were stopped in front of my therapist's building, a brownstone over on East 48th where the first floor had been converted into his office. "I don't have to go, darling. I want to stay here with you," I said, turning back to her.

"It's okay, I'll wait for you if you want."

Just then, I had an idea. Sure, it was unconventional, but it was a step towards fixing the problem I unwrapped this morning. "Come with me," I said.

"What? Seriously? I can't—I mean, I'm not up for—I can't intrude like that."

"Darling, listen. Let me prove that I'm trying to do better to let you in. We won't do a 'couples' thing, and you won't have to say a word if you don't want to. Just sit with me."

"Okay," she said, sighing as she nodded her head.

Peter answered the door, welcoming us and giving Andrea an odd look.

"I brought my friend Andrea today—well, my _lover_ I guess," I added, blushing. "I want her to sit in on our session today."

He reached out and shook Andrea's hand politely before turning back to me. "Miranda, I strongly advise against this. The purpose of therapy is to provide you with a nonjudgmental space where you can speak freely about your fears, struggles, relationships. I would be happy to refer you to someone who specializes in joint counseling—"

"No," I said. "I do not believe we are interested in that right now. I brought Andrea to listen. Anything can be said in front of her, and I am not afraid of her hearing anything I need to say."

"Well, Miranda, we'll do this your way, but just this once. And, you have to understand I will act as if she is not in the room. You will need to arrange something with another therapist if this is to continue."

"That's fine. I almost lost her this morning because I wasn't sharing with her. I can't let that happen again."

"Miranda," she whispered, "I can wait in the car. It's okay, we can talk later," she reassured.

"No," I said, squeezing her hand.

"No," Peter said, echoing me. "Please, Andrea, you are welcome to stay." He ushered us into his office. "Would you like me to pull in another chair?" he asked her.

"No, I think we can share the sofa," she said, taking a seat in the corner and pulling me to lay next to her.

I smiled as I laid back against her chest, kicking my shoes off and resting my feet on the opposite end of the couch. She wrapped her arms gently around my waist and bent down, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I love you," she whispered.

"So," Peter began, "you mentioned something about this morning? Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I had a little chat with one of my assistants—Emily. Nigel told me Emily was seeing unexplained thingsat my townhouse, and she was suspicious and petrified. I spoke with Emily and reassured her that I was, in fact, seeing someone, so she shouldn't worry about anything she sees or hears. I explained that I needed her utmost discretion until my divorce was finalized, and reassured her that nothing happened between me and this other person until after I was legally separated. I never once mentioned Andrea's name, and I knew Emily would never ask."

"Then what happened?"

"I called Andrea to tell her."

"To tell her you spoke with Emily?"

"Yes. I felt she should know, since it was concerning us. I just didn't think to speak with her first. I'm—I'm not used to running my ideas past other people first," I admitted in way of excuse.

"What did she say?"

"Well, she was upset that I told Emily, but I think what hurt her most was that I let slip the part about being legally separated."

"Why was that?"

"Well, I didn't really mean to say it. I hadn't told Andrea. But, I mean I called her with the intention of sharing information because I thought it was appropriate. I just hadn't thought she would react so strongly."

"So, how did it make you feel when Andrea got upset?" Peter asked.

Andrea softly brushed her fingers along my side, silently reassuring me. "I was hurt, afraid, disappointed in myself, angry."

"Why were you angry?"

"Well, I didn't have to call her. I could have chose not to tell her anything and she would have never known…and this argument could have been avoided."

"Was that your reasoning behind not telling her about the separation a month ago?"

"It was two weeks and five days ago," I quickly clarified. "But yes, I suppose at the time I was thinking that, but as we grew closer, I just couldn't find the right time."

"Okay, so let's get back to where you said you felt disappointed in yourself and afraid. Did you take the blame for causing Andrea's anger?"

"Yes, of course. My actions directly upset her. I should have spoken with her first."

"Miranda, surely you cannot be expected to share every single thing with her. As you said before, you don't need to run your ideas past her, seeking permission."

"I was selfish and not thinking about her. When it comes to my relationship with Andrea, I need to learn to communicate more."

"Okay. Tell me more about why you didn't tell her you were separated—when was it and where were you?"

I sighed and closed my eyes, resting my head back onto Andrea's shoulder. "It was Sunday, and Andrea was on her way over when I spoke to Leslie. Andrea and I had not been…_involved_…yet, as I kept saying I needed to wait until the divorce was finalized. She was very patient, and reassured me she would wait as long as I needed. Leslie called to tell me the separation was granted by the judge, and reassured me Stephen was not filing for custody. My heart dropped just learning that he could have, but I've already told you that. I don't want to talk about Stephen right now," I said. "I honestly didn't expect Leslie to say that whatever I did after the separation would not affect my divorce—that he couldn't turn around and claim infidelity if nothing happened before the separation, _and nothing did_."

"So, what happened when she came over?"

"I told her Leslie said the divorce was probably to be finalized in the next two months, and I briefly kissed her, explaining we needed to wait."

"Why didn't you tell her what else Leslie said?" Peter asked.

"I was afraid she would push me. It's crazy, because she was more than patient, but I thought that if she knew I was legally free, she wouldn't accept my excuses."

"Why were you making excuses, knowing you were, in fact, free?"

I paused for a moment, reaching down to lace my fingers with Andrea's. "I was nervous. I had never been with a woman like that, and, well, I didn't want to lose her. Plus, she was still my assistant. It wasn't until the next day that she submitted her resignation and two weeks' notice."

"So, the whole don't fix it if it's not broken mentality? Keep the status quo in fear of the unknown?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"But you eventually changed your mind, I presume? I mean, have you been involved sexually with her since then?"

"Yes," I said. "We spent more time together, she found a new job, and I reintroduced her to my daughters, who seem to love her, too." After a brief pause, I continued. "On the eve of her last day at _Runway_, I took her on a date to see the Orchid Show in the evening and arranged a private viewing of Pavilion Three. She was irresistible," I said, recalling that evening. "I had never before felt that overwhelming pull towards someone. I simply had to be with her. And, we weren't even drinking," I added with a chuckle. "She came home with me, and, well, at that point, I didn't know when I was going to be able to bring up the separation."

"Why not tell her then?"

"As she has her lips to my—" I paused, shaking my head. "Was I supposed to say, 'By the way, you can keep doing what you're doing because I'm separated.' I guess I just wanted her to think it was my decision to move forward, not that I was just doing it because of the separation."

"Do you think she would have thought that?"

"I don't know," I said, reaching for the glass of water on the table and taking a long sip.

"Okay, back to disclosing your relationship," Peter said. "Were you planning to keep it secret?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. We never sat down to discuss it, but I think we were in agreement that neither of us was ready for people to find out. The girls still didn't know, and neither did James or Stephen. When Leslie mentioned that Stephen could have filed for custody, I began worrying that James would, too, since he had been arguing a bit about it recently."

"And Andrea?"

"Well, she is just about to start a new job, and I didn't want anything like this to tarnish her reputation before she had the chance to show her worth."

"So, did you tell anyone?" Peter asked, quickly scratching something down on his notepad.

"I told Nigel—as I mentioned, he and I are back to being friends like we used to be."

"What was her reaction?"

"Okay. I remember she said something about being glad I had someone to talk to."

"Whom does she talk to?"

"I—I don't know." Andrea must have felt my muscles growing tense, as she softly kissed my cheek and began tracing her finger in circles on my palm.

"What about her family?"

"I know her relationship with her mother has been rather strained since her grandmother passed, but, well, the last time I asked, she didn't want to talk about it."

"What would your family think if you disclosed this relationship?"

"Well, I don't know what the girls would think. I can only hope I've raised them to live with open hearts and minds."

"And the rest of your family? James? Carol? Stephen? …Richard?"

I sighed. "As long as James and Stephen can't use it to take my children from me, I don't care what they think. Carol is sweet and has been such a wonderful grandmother to the girls—I think she would be happy that I'm happy and encourage the girls to do the same."

"And Richard? Miranda, I know you don't like to talk about him, but you can't pretend he doesn't exist."

"He's no longer in my life," I said, sitting up and unwrapping Andrea's arms from my waist.

"But if news breaks and Richard finds out—wouldn't you be concerned?"

"No. He knows I will fire back with details and proof of all the shit he pulled when Mom was dying. He would lose everything."

"Okay. What about Andrea? What would her friends and family think?" Peter asked.

I looked over at Andrea, huddled in the corner of the couch, her knees up to her chest. Without thinking, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my chest. "Is this too much, darling?" I whispered.

"No, go on," she said, burying her head in my neck.

"I don't know what Andrea's friends and family would think," I said quietly. "I have never asked her. I really don't know that much about her like that."

"Do you think maybe that's why she was upset you were making decisions without her and withholding information—because she was worried of her family's reaction?"

I bit my lip. "Yes, that is a possibility," I said. "She did seem to equate my telling Emily with me telling the press," I added, softly tracing circles on Andrea's back.

"Okay, what I'd like you to do in the next few weeks is talk more to Andrea. Try to consciously speak with her before making a decision, even if it's something as ridiculous as which color pen you should write with. Just try it. Also," Peter continued, "I want you to talk to her about same-sex relationships. See what she thinks, what her family thinks, how she thinks they might react. Share your fears with her, but be sure to think of overall well-being and not just in terms of one's professional reputation. And lastly," he added, "I want you to talk to her about your divorce. I think it's perfectly healthy for you to keep some things to yourself, but you need to decide what is going to affect her, and make sure she understands that you may choose to keep some details of your past or private life hidden and buried. Just know that honesty sometimes causes arguments, too, but that's not always a bad thing. As humans, we most frequently express our pure, raw emotions when we're arguing."

I bent down and kissed Andrea on the forehead before standing and shaking Peter's hand. "Thank you," I said before reaching down to take Andrea's hand.

"Miranda, can I just have one minute with you before you leave?" Peter asked.

I turned to look at Andrea. "I'll wait in the car, go ahead," she said, smiling before she stepped out and shut the door.

"Miranda, I've never seen you so relaxed," Peter said.

"Well, she calms me. Having her arms around me just reassures me somehow. I know she cares about me very much and always has my best interests in mind."

"And you reciprocate this?"

"Yes, of course," I said, smiling. "That's kind of how this started—with me comforting her on the plane home from Paris when her grandmother was sick."

"Never lose that," Peter said. "I see too many relationships get bogged down in details, schedules, sexual compatibility; people forget how to simply love one another and how to be physically intimate and honest."

"I know," I said, beaming. "Thank you," I said before slipping out the door.

Back in the town car, I reached over and took Andrea's hand, squeezing gently. "Are you okay? That wasn't too much, was it?"

"I'm fine. I do have a few questions, though." I nodded, knowing at least one of the questions she would ask. "Who is Richard and what happened?"

"Richard is my estranged younger brother. He's a recovering drug addict, though I don't know how successful that has been. I haven't spoken with him since before my mother died. When she was getting bad, I called him and told him he should come see her. He did. And I'm glad he did. But I should have known he would steal all of her prescription medications—oxycodone, percoset, demurol, combunox. I had to contact the police and fill out a burglary report in order for the doctor to write new prescriptions. At least my mother didn't realize what had happened. James spoke to Richard on the phone the morning of her funeral, and Richard convinced him he was getting help and getting his life back on track since he moved to San Francisco. That was the last I heard of him, and as I said, I don't think he will be a problem."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Andrea said.

"It's okay. No one knows, though. I've been telling reporters I was an only child for the past thirty years. Nigel doesn't even know I have a brother," I added, hoping she would feel better knowing that I even keep things from him.

Her eyes widened. "But, what if he finds out?"

"When I first met Nigel, I didn't know we would be friends for the next thirty years. There was really no right time. I can only hope he will understand if I do need to tell him someday," I explained. "What else did you want to ask me?"

"Umm, so, how long have you been seeing Peter? I mean, does he know everything about me?" she asked.

"I've been seeing him since your second day at _Runway_, about once or twice a month. Emily has always scheduled that appointment. And yes, he knows almost as much about you as I do."

"Wow. Uh, can I ask why you went to see him?"

"Sure. Since that first day I met you, I felt something. I needed you. I didn't know how to explain it. He actually reassured me and let me know I wasn't going crazy. He helped me to consider a same-sex relationship for myself, and encouraged me to get to know you as a person if I felt drawn to you. He encouraged me—perhaps too much, looking back—to think of you as a human being instead of my assistant and employee, and, well, I needed that. It didn't feel right talking to Nigel about it because I knew he was also friends with you."

Andrea nodded and leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and squeezed tight. "I love you, Andrea, and I am so sorry I hurt you," I said. "I will work harder to focus on you instead of me. I will learn your needs and your fears—even if you don't want to talk about them—and I will do everything in my power to take care of them. If, of course, you'll let me. And, no more making decisions without you…be prepared for thousands of texts each day," I added with a smile. "Will I see you tonight?" I asked hesitantly as the car pulled to a stop in front of _Runway_. Sure, we were working things out, but I hoped Andrea didn't feel she needed to stay elsewhere, even for a few days.

"Of course," she said, kissing me softly on the cheek. "I love you."

TBC

a/n: thought i'd offer up some longer chapters to hopefully make up for my delay in regular postings. :) thx for reading!


	26. Part 5 Chapter 2

Part 5, Chapter 2

I returned to the office in much better spirits than I had left; it was still baffling to me how quickly and easily my emotions could change. Before Andrea, there really was only one side of Miranda Priestly, but now, half of my staff has seen me in tears, a few too many people in New York City are privy to the details of my sex life, and, well, I actually liked it. I'm not sure how this happened or if it were even possible, but I think showing a little bit of my humanity has actually earned me more respect than wielding my power.

Sinking back into my desk chair, I quickly handled the stack of papers before me and returned any urgent calls. Before I realized, it was already 4:00PM, and I had a text message from Andrea: "Can I have stuff delivered to my new address? Ordering kitchen things from Bed, Bath, & Beyond dot com."

"Yes, not until Weds afternoon," I replied.

"Awesome. All kitchen gadgetry will be delivered on Friday. Oh—one more thing. What is my rent going to be?"

"Let's talk more tonight. It might be helpful if you can call to have utilities setup if they aren't already—you can get an average monthly cost. Don't forget TV/internet/phone."

"Okay, I can do that now. In my name or yours?"

"Yours. Let's see what utilities and assessments will cost, and then we can set your rent at a reasonable amount from there. We can discuss it over dinner tonight if that's okay?" I replied. I knew this conversation was coming, and while I was still exhausted from this morning, I needed to get a bit more work done since I would not have time all weekend.

"Yes. I'll make some calls and crunch some numbers. Love you."

I chuckled at her response. "Love you, too, darling. xo — will be home around 7PM."

Friday afternoons were secretly my favorite time to be in the office. Most of the employees had left for the weekend, but there was a quiet energy seeping from the walls, one which spurred me on to high productivity.

At 6:45PM, I received another text from Andrea. Mentally kicking myself for not being in the car already, I hurried to grab the folder of layouts I was looking at, as well as my computer before heading down to meet Roy. In the backseat, I read Andrea's message: "I don't think I can afford this, Miranda. Utilities + assessment = $504/month!"

Not wanting to have this conversation via text, I immediately dialed her number. "Darling? I'm sorry, I'm in the car right now and we ran into a bit of traffic. I promise you we will talk about this rent thing later. The whole point of you renting from me is so we can set a price that you can afford without worrying each month."

"I know, but still," Andrea whined.

I sighed. "I was thinking of setting up a separate business account, and your rent can be deposited there each month as a sort of rent-to-own program. Then, when you decide to move you'll have whatever percentage ownership, based on the sale cost of the condo. At that point, we can talk about what you want to do—we can be co-owners for the next renter, or I can buy you out and essentially give back the money you paid. Or, you can buy me out. This way, you're only paying your $500 each month, and anything else will be a sort of investment. But, that's just what I was thinking, darling. I want to hear your thoughts so we can make a decision together. Okay?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for getting worried. I trust you not to screw me over," she said, chuckling. "Sometimes I just get nervous about not having enough money."

"I understand," I said, thinking back to when I was her age. "I'll be home in five minutes—see you soon," I said, hanging up.

"Roy," I called. "Will you still drive us to Arlington tomorrow?"

"Sure thing. I will pick you up at 6:30AM. Um, do you mind if I take care of something while we're there, too? Don't worry—it won't interfere with your business," he added.

"Of course, Roy. Will you need more time there? I can make other arrangements for us if you need," I offered.

"No. I, uh, just want to go see my grandfather's burial site. He was in the First World War, and I've never been out there to see it."

"Of course, Roy. Please, do whatever you need, just leave the car doors unlocked in case Andrea needs to relax or something. I'm really worried about how she will handle everything."

"Better yet," Roy said, "I'll give you my spare set of keys. If there's anything I can do…"

"No, you're doing more than enough. Thank you. And if I didn't already mention it, please feel free to dress casually tomorrow. It's supposed to be hot, and, well, I just want you to be comfortable."

"Thank you, Miranda," Roy said, reaching into the glove box for his spare keys. "Here you go. See you in the morning!" he called as I stepped out of the car.

I walked in the front door at 7:10PM and was pleasantly surprised to see that Andrea had prepared a small roast chicken with roasted apples and potatoes—and there was a fresh blueberry pie on the counter. "Darling, this looks delicious," I said, kicking my heels off and untucking my shirt. "You're spoiling me, you know."

I hadn't realized how exhausted I was from the week's events until I sat at the kitchen table and let myself relax. For a split second, I thought perhaps the delicious aromas of the meal before me would be enough—the thought of picking up my fork for each bite seeming all too strenuous at this point. But, the last thing I wanted was to insult Andrea's wonderful cooking by not eating.

Over dinner, Andrea and I chatted briefly about our day; I told her how Nigel was horrified at the tattered condition of the Book this morning, and she told me how difficult it had been to find sugar in the kitchen when making the pie.

"Was everything okay?" Andrea asked, collecting my half-eaten plate of food from the table.

"Yes, it was delicious. Thank you," I said, smiling as I watched her clear the table, refusing to let me help. She took the remaining chicken and diced it into small pieces, adding some chopped celery, onion, and mayonnaise before packing it in a small travel container and placing it in the fridge with the fruit, chocolates, cheese, crackers, and cans of flavored Pelligrino she planned to bring tomorrow.

As she loaded the plates into the dishwasher, I rested my elbows on the table and cradled my head in my hands. Thinking of the emotions brought to surface today, on top of those I was anticipating tomorrow and Sunday, I just needed a few minutes to wind down.

"Miranda?" she called, rousing me from my sleep as she softly placed her hands on my shoulders. "Why don't you head up to bed? I know it's been a long day," she said.

"Mmm," I groaned, folding my arms on the table and dropping my head to rest on them. "I just want to sleep here for a minute," I mumbled.

Andrea gently began kneading my shoulders, her hands gradually becoming more forceful as she worked the tension out of my muscles, knots dissolving under her expert fingers.

"Come upstairs," she said, stepping away and taking me by the arm. "I'll draw you a nice, hot bath."

I nodded and let her lead me upstairs to my bedroom, where I sank into the bed while she prepared the bathroom. I vaguely recall hearing her say something else to me, but once my head sunk into the goose down pillow, it was clear I would not be moving for several hours. I felt her hands on me, softly removing my socks, belt, and trousers before undoing a few buttons on my blouse. Gently laying a blanket over me, she kissed me on the forehead and turned out the light before I fell into a deep slumber.

I woke several hours later, stiff but thoroughly rested, yet totally surprised to find it was only minutes past midnight. I took a deep breath and reached out next to me, shocked to find an empty bed, the covers still neatly tucked under the throw pillows. _Where was she?_ I wondered.

Sitting up, I realized I had fallen asleep on top of the bed, and I smiled when I remembered Andrea undressing me. I crept into the bathroom and changed into my silk nightshirt, stopping at the sink to remove my makeup and brush my teeth before setting out in search of the brunette.

Just as I was about to check the guest room, I saw a glimmer of light poking out from underneath the door to my office. Quietly pushing the door open, I found Andrea curled up on the couch with a notebook in her lap, her headphones on.

I walked up along the couch and sat next to her, resting my head on her knees, as I didn't want to disturb whatever she was writing. When she finally looked up and set her pen down, I spoke.

"Thank you for letting me sleep—I needed that nap. Did you want to continue our conversation from earlier?" I asked quietly.

"Uh, which one?" she asked.

"About rent."

"Oh, no, not right now. I mean, if that's okay."

"Sure," I said. "Can I ask what you're up working on?"

She hesitated, closing her notebook and wrapping the elastic band around the pages. "It's nothing. Just some writing."

I smiled and nodded. I didn't want to push her right now. "Are you coming to bed soon?" I asked.

She nodded. "I'll be there in five minutes."

I stood and returned to my bedroom, softly brushing her shoulder as I walked past. Turning down the covers, I crawled in between the sheets and willed myself to stay awake until she arrived.

Right on time, she crept into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, shedding her sweater and crawling in next to me. I turned to face her as she scooted closer to the my side of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Miranda," she whispered, burying her face in my neck.

My arms instinctively wrapped around her, pressing her along the length of my body. "Shh," I whispered, trying to soothe her and keep her from shedding any unnecessary tears. "Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?"

"For everything—all this added stress in your life that you don't need. You were exhausted this afternoon, and it's all because of me."

"Darling, please," I said, carefully choosing my words, knowing I had a habit of making others feel insignificant. "You—and my girls—are the most important things in my life right now and I would gladly do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy." I reached down and brushed her cheek, coaxing her away from my neck. "That being said, I am typically the one who creates the stress in my own life. I am well aware that my uber-high standards, demanding nature, and less than friendly attitude are at the heart of each and every stressful situation I face."

"But tonight, you fell asleep before nine o'clock and I couldn't even wake you for a hot bath."

"Andrea, sweetie, I'm not twenty-five. My body needs rest. And for your information, I am extremely nervous about dinner with James and the girls on Sunday."

"Why didn't you say something?" she asked, switching out of her miserable mood to her caretaker mentality in an instant. I took mental note of the change and filed that away for later. _Who knows when I'll need to get her to refocus again_, I thought.

"Well, we were busy with other details. I know I shouldn't be nervous, but I can't help the feeling that James will find something to use against me. I can't let him take my babies away," I said.

"I won't let that happen," Andrea said, gently wrapping her arm around my shoulder. "Do you think it would be better if I wasn't here?"

"What? No!"

"I mean, does he suspect anything? How much does he know?"

"I—I don't know. Nothing, I think." My head felt like it was about to explode. "He knows you're my friend. A few weeks ago he asked if I was seeing someone, but I insisted I was not. The girls don't know anything either, so they didn't tell him anything."

"Okay," she said, "don't worry. He's not going to find out. And even if he does, it's probably in his best interest to keep it quiet—as we've seen, the press can be pretty harsh on people whose exes come out of the closet."

"Can we just not talk about this?" I said, sighing in exasperation. I was starting to get worked up, and the mention of the press and coming out of the closet was not something I wanted to think about right now. Not that I was being particularly unrealistic; I was very clear as to how the tabloids operated. I just wasn't ready for my life to be front and center before I had a chance to speak with my girls—and Andrea…

Before I could finish my thoughts, Andrea's lips were on mine, sucking the life from my lungs. I moaned into her mouth as her tongue traced the roof of my mouth, its delightful dance sending shivers through my body. The world melted away as she continued, tiny whimpers and gasps escaping my lips, released from somewhere deep within.

"Ohh, Andrea," I panted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need your fingers," I said, the fluttering feeling between my legs growing too strong to ignore any longer.

She slowly slid her hand down, across my abdomen and underneath the thin lace band of my silk briefs. My body was on fire, ignited by her touch. I reached down and pulled back the duvet and sheets, letting the crisp air hit my burning skin.

"Please—Andrea—_oh god_—please!" I cried, tears streaming down my face as all of my emotions bubbled within, threatening to pop at any moment like carbonation against a bottle top.

I was right there—I had been right there at the precipice since her lips met mine. I knew I needed release earlier that day—when I straddled her in the car I would have let her take me right then and there—but the thought of calling Andrea back just for this sent memories of my soon-to-be ex flashing through my mind. No, I would not treat Andrea that way. And no, I was definitely not thinking of _him_ while this beautiful creature was bringing me to such a delightful orgasm.

"Andrea," I panted, "I love you—I—_oh-oh-oh,_" my voice trailed off as my muscles began to contract, little gasps escaping my throat as my head curled up off the pillow of its own volition. As Andrea flicked at my sensitive bud, my body grew rigid and I inhaled sharply, closing my eyes as I felt my muscles drawing her fingers deeper inside.

When I woke, Andrea was pressing a cool cloth to my forehead, and I realized I was laying on the opposite side of the bed.

"Hi," she whispered, her deep brown eyes a welcome sight.

I reached up and slipped my hand around her neck, tugging her forward for a kiss. What I would do without this woman in my life, well, I wasn't prepared to think of that. I gently broke the kiss, reaching up to wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked softly, moving the cool cloth to the back of my neck.

"Yes, I'm fine now," I said. "I hadn't realized how much I needed that today," I admitted.

"Well, I can imagine. You had a lot to deal with," she said. "Do you often get feverish like this?" she asked.

I looked up at her, my eyebrow raised in question.

"Well, you kicked off the covers, and then you were dripping in sweat. I'm sure the back of your shirt is still damp," she said. "That's why I moved you to this side and got this," she said, gesturing to the cool cloth.

"Oh, um," I blushed, embarrassed at my profuse sweating. "I guess I never let things build up this much," I admitted. "I'm going to take a quick shower and throw a clean shirt on," I said, extricating myself from her arms and heading to the bathroom.

When I returned minutes later, Andrea was fluffing the pillows and smoothing out what looked like fresh sheets. "I took the mattress pad off the bed for now," she explained. "It's one of those memory foam ones, and those have a tendency to retain heat. They sell new ones now that diffuse temperature much better."

"Thank you," I said, shyly crawling into bed as she held up the covers for me. "Andrea," I said, "don't take this the wrong way, but you're not my assistant anymore. You don't have to do these things."

"I know. I just like to know you'll let me take care of you if I want to," she said, climbing into bed next to me. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Darling, you sat with me during my therapy session today. I think anything goes after that," I said with a smile.

"Do you ever masturbate?"

I nearly choked on my breath as she asked the question. Now _that _was a personal question I was not prepared for. "Why?" I asked after a few seconds of hesitation.

"Well, you said that you never let things build up like that, so I just thought—I guess I was just curious what you used to do."

I took a deep breath. _Just the conversation I did not want to have, _I thought. "No, I don't. Actually, I never have. I guess I just never felt the need. Do you?" I asked, hoping that by turning the tables, I could distract her from the second part of her inquiry.

"Yeah, sometimes," she said. "If I can't fall asleep, or well, I guess months ago I used to do it after a grueling day at _Runway_…and I'd think of you."

My eyes widened at that little fact. "Do you mean to say you fantasized about me, darling?"

"Well, maybe a little. Nothing too crazy. It was always like just a tiny tweak to something that had happened during the day. Tiny, but very unrealistic at the time."

"Would you care to share any of these?" I asked, linking my fingers with hers on top of the sheet.

"Maybe some other time," she said with a wink. "You never answered the other part of my question."

I sighed and turned onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. "After our first night—the orchid show—you mentioned that you didn't want to hear about Stephen. Is that still true?"

"Well, not really. I mean, I'd prefer if you didn't bring him up in bed, but, I did ask the question," she said.

"Okay. Just this once," I said. "I don't even know how it got to the way it was, but Stephen and I would frequently meet in a room at The Four Seasons for a quick…um…_release_," I said. "It worked out quite well, because my needs were met without having to really spend time with him aside from the ten minutes we spent in the room, and I was still fulfilling my wifely obligation."

"Oh." Andrea said. "I guess I'm a little surprised you agreed to that."

"It was the lesser of many evils," Andrea. "We were married. I did have feelings for him once. We hardly ever saw each other at home due to his frequent business trips and dinners and my busy schedule. It was efficient," I said, sighing. Somehow, I just knew what she was going to ask next.

"Why didn't you have me meet you somewhere today for a _release_?" she asked.

"Darling, you are not him. I actually want to spend time with you. I look forward to coming home and seeing you in the evening. And you meet my needs just fine on your own," I added with a smile.

"So my sex-on-the-desk fantasy is out?"

I laughed, a full-bodied laugh bubbling from within. "Yes, darling. I'm sorry about that. But this isn't to say we can't be adventurous," I added. "I just don't want to start out the way Stephen and I ended, you know? We were just using each other."

"How often did it happen?" she asked.

"Maybe two or three times in the past six months," I said.

"So, since you've met me."

"Yes. Darling, I thought I told you all this."

Andrea shrugged. "I don't remember. Tell me again."

I sighed. "On your very first day at _Runway_, the day I hired you, in fact, I met with him that morning _because I couldn't get my mind off of you_. The next time I remember was the night you came upstairs with the Book and interrupted our argument. He was accusing me of being obsessed with you, and I was just too exhausted to fight. I think it's fair to say I haven't been interested in him in years."

She smiled and lazily pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I love you, Miranda Priestly," she whispered. "Thank you for sharing so much with me today, for letting me take care of you, for being willing to try new things with me."

"Of course, darling," I said, glancing at the clock. "We should try and get some sleep—we have to be up in less than three hours," I said.

She nodded and curled up alongside me as we both drifted off to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 5:30AM, I did us both a favor by hitting the snooze button. I was certainly used to more than a few hours of sleep on a Friday night. Something told me that would be changing in the near future. Hitting the snooze again at 5:39 and 5:48, when the alarm sounded at 5:57, I slowly crawled out of bed, leaving the shrill beeping on to wake up Andrea while I washed my face and began applying my makeup. Finally, I heard her turn off the alarm, muttering something while she stomped off to the guest room. I quickly slipped into a pair of slim-leg white jeans and selected a thin chambray blouse with a white camisole underneath. I stepped into a pair of casual cork wedge sandals and finished the casual, summer day look with a simple silver necklace and a few bangle bracelets and my watch. Hearing the shower turn off in the guest bedroom, I headed downstairs to pack our small cooler.

I took the items out of the fridge, plus added a few bottles of still water, knowing how hot it was supposed to be today. I threw some additional tissues in my bag, and just as I was about to pick up the morning paper, Andrea came down the stairs.

"Good morning," I said with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, just not enough," she said, trying to stifle a yawn.

"I was thinking we could have Roy stop at Starbucks for some coffee on our way out of the city."

"That sounds perfect," Andrea said. "Do you mind if I bring a blanket in the car?"

"No, not at all. There are several to choose from in the chest in the den," I explained.

Once she selected a small navy fleece blanket, I picked up the cooler and carried it out front, where Roy picked it up and placed it in the front seat.

"Good morning, Miranda," Roy said, smiling brightly in his khaki shorts and Lacoste polo.

"Roy," I said, acknowledging him with a slight nod. "We will need to stop at Starbucks before we leave the city—whichever one you think is closest," I added before sinking into the back seat.

Once we were fully caffeinated, Andrea began to wake up. I neatly folded the newspaper I was reading and tucked my glasses back into my purse. "I think you're very brave for doing this today," I said, reaching over and taking her hand.

"I couldn't do it by myself," she said. "Thank you for coming with me."

I nodded and turned to face her. "How have things been with your mother and grandfather?"

She turned her head to meet my gaze. "I _still_ don't feel like talking about that, Miranda," she said. "Just because Peter told you to talk to me about it doesn't mean I will answer."

"I'm not asking because he said to. If you only knew half of what he's wanted me to do over the years," I said, shaking my head. "Sweetie, I've been asking you this for a while, if you recall. Can you at least tell me you have someone to talk to about it?"

"No."

"No you won't tell me, or no you don't have someone?"

"Miranda, I don't have anyone. My friends sided with Nate when we broke up. My friends from home and college—well, I just grew apart. They're all getting married and having babies and playdates…that's not me. It's sad, but I would probably count Nigel and Emily as two of my closer friends, and I don't even think Emily likes me."

"Where do I fit in?" I asked quietly, noticing she failed to include me in her list of friends.

"What? Oh—well, you're just different."

I couldn't help but purse my lips at that explanation. Didn't Andrea consider me a friend? Wasn't that how things started between us? We were _friends_, sharing stories, comforting one another. Had I somehow let that slip away? I closed my eyes and tried to think back to when things changed. Surely we were friends during Andrea's last week at _Runway. _And surely we were friends the night of the our date at the Orchid Show. And that weekend…

I froze, realizing I was seeing a pattern—something as simple as houndstooth or nautical stripes. The more we explored each other sexually, the more closed off we were. I gasped at my own realization and quickly turned back to Andrea.

"You okay?" she asked.

"No. No, I'm not. For a few weeks there, you were my best friend, Andrea. I felt like I could tell you anything, and I think you were very forthcoming with me, too. I even seem to remember you walking out on a lunch because I wasn't viewing you as a friend. All that changed once we started having sex, though, didn't it? You said you'd be patient and take it slow with me, be at my side as a friend, but now what?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Think about it," I said. "You didn't include me in your list of friends. I even introduced you to Peter as my _lover_. God, how could I have been so stupid!"

"Calm down," she said, gently resting her hand on my arm. "We can still make this work," she said. "You are still my best friend. I know I can tell you absolutely anything. But, I think it changed for me when Cassidy got sick two weeks ago."

"What?" I asked, sitting upright. How was my daughter involved in this?

"Not directly. But, Miranda, you dropped everything for her."

I wrinkled my brow in confusion. "But, have I not done that for you, too?"

"That's not it. Miranda, I know your daughters come first, and I am entirely supportive of that. You were—I don't know. It was like your relationship with your daughters was back and there was no room for me. It just made me anxious, knowing I only had so much time with you each day, if that. I guess I wanted to make the most of our time," she said.

I sighed, thinking back to what Nigel had told me several weeks ago. "Andrea," I began, "if we never have sex again, I would be okay with it as long as you were still at my side. I mean, I would miss it, but that's not what I love when I say I love you. It's _you_—your presence and friendship means more to me than anything else ever has or possibly could."

Tears began to form in Andrea's eyes, and she furiously blinked and looked upwards, trying to keep them from falling. "But what will happen once I start my new job and move into the new apartment next week? And once the girls move home?" she asked.

"We'll make it work. I'll, I don't know, send you emails during the day, and you can write back with silly things about your coworkers, or important things. Anything. We'll work it out. There might be more movie nights with two ten-year-olds than you were planning on, but I know they will want you there with us as much as I do."

Andrea sat for a moment, thinking about what I just said.

"Darling," I said, picking up her hand. "I can't predict the future, but I can try my hardest to keep doing the things that make you—make _us_—happy. Will you try that with me?"

Andrea nodded, and I pulled her in for a close hug. We sat like that for quite some time, until Roy was forced to slam on the brakes, sending our arms out to brace ourselves on the seat in front.

Once we settled back, Andrea moved into the corner of the backseat and kicked her feet up, urging me to sit between her legs and lean back into her, stretching out my own legs a bit. Andrea wrapped her arms tightly around my waist and pressed a small kiss on my temple.

"So, I didn't want to tell you about my mom because you're always taking sides with her. I'm not saying you need to agree with me on everything—you wouldn't be you if you weren't logical to a fault," she said, squeezing me tightly. "But if you're going to lecture me about being a mother and say you can see where she's coming from, I'm not going to talk."

She was right. I did feel the need to understand things from Andrea's mother's point-of-view a bit too much. I nodded, and Andrea continued, telling me about her grandpa's weakening knees, her mother's controlling behavior while she simultaneously complained no one was helping, her father's threats of divorce, and her aunt's deep depression. I was glad we were sitting the way we were, because I couldn't bear to see the pain in her eyes as she spoke all of this.

"So, what comes next?" I asked.

"Well, my mom moved into my grandpa's house and cut back at work. Even when she goes home to visit, she's emotionally cut off and won't talk to my dad. I don't see that lasting. My aunt sits and cries all day on the couch. My mom cries all night. Neither 'believes' in therapy or anti-depressants, and honestly, I'm sick of hearing it. My mom will sit and text me all of her problems, but I don't care anymore. I've tried to offer advice, but she won't listen. She only wants to listen to the people who aren't giving her any direction—her siblings."

"What about your father?"

"He texts me, too, complaining about Mom's complaints. I don't have time to get involved with that, either. It's cruel, but I just don't want anything to do with them. I wish I would have never given them my new number."

"Sweetheart, we can change your number easily, but that won't repair your relationship," I said.

"I don't have a relationship with them. I don't want to."

"So have you actually talked to them or is this all via text?"

"I talked to my mom last week. She told me about an argument she was having with my aunt about Gram's favorite color and simply wanted me to call my aunt and tell her my mom was right. It's ridiculous and petty. Everything with them is."

I laced my fingers in hers, resting softly against my ribcage. "I'm going to apologize in advance here, but what do they think of same-sex relationships? I mean, do they know you're not straight?"

Andrea took a deep breath, and I felt myself move with her chest. "They don't know. I'm their daughter who's supposed to be a rocket scientist, meet a handsome millionaire, and have several gorgeous children by the time I'm thirty."

"Well, you've got one part covered," I said, leaning my head back onto her shoulder. "I'm your handsome millionaire."

Andrea rolled her eyes. Apparently she did not find that humorous.

"No, I'm pretty sure they meant a handsome _male_ millionaire."

"Well, were they specific?"

"No, but come on. You only use handsome to talk about guys."

"Eh, that's not true. The OED lists multiple entries for _handsome_, the first relating to a good-looking male, the second relating to an imposing, stunning female, the third relating to an object of high quality, the fourth…"

"Okay, okay," Andrea said, finally giggling at my tirade. "You _would _have the dictionary memorized," she said with a laugh. "Yes, I suppose you are my handsome millionaire, then. But it doesn't change the way they'll see it," she said, her tone growing more and more somber.

"How bad do you think it would be?" I asked.

She sighed and removed her right hand from my waist to run it through her hair. "Mom will cry and scream. And then cry that it's not right over and over. Dad will tell me how disappointed he is, and Mom will tell me how all dad does is cry. Dad might come around someday. He's a little more forward-thinking just because of his professional and educational experience. Mom lives in a bubble where all her friends and coworkers think and act exactly like she does. She'd rather tell her friends I died than tell them I was dating a woman."

"I'm so sorry, Andrea," I said. "Do you think it would help if I spoke to them with you?"

"No. Thanks for offering, but I was thinking that I would let them find out for themselves."

"You mean, not even prepare them?"

"No. I don't care. They can't do anything to me."

"Darling, maybe we should rethink that idea. First, they could talk to the press and make it difficult for both of us professionally—specifically you with your new job—depending on what they said. But also, I think it would be better if they knew the details that will no doubt get buried beneath the sensationalized headlines when this eventually breaks."

"You mean, telling them we were friends and didn't do anything until after you were separated and I left _Runway?"_

"Exactly."

She thought for a few moments, silently weighing the options. "I just don't want to open a can of worms, you know. It's easier not to tell them."

"I know," I said. "Don't you think I wish I could simply not tell the girls or James? I just think it's easier to be honest upfront than to have to backpedal and make excuses. But," I continued, "we don't have to make a decision right now. It would be nice to have a plan in place if something does leak, but I think we are safe for a while," I said, sitting up as the car came to a stop.

"Where are we?" Andrea asked.

"Just outside of D.C. it looks like," I said, judging by the tourist signs at the gas station.

Roy gently rapped on the window before opening the door. "Does anyone need anything from inside?"

"One of those cold cans of Starbucks, please? I think it's called 'doubleshot'—any flavor," she said.

"Sure thing, kid," he said. "Miranda?"

"I'm fine, thank you," I said as Roy shut the door and headed inside. I pressed the button to lower the privacy screen and reached up front for the cooler. It was small enough that I could really put it at my feet, especially since Andrea seemed intent at keeping her legs up the entire time as it was.

I pulled out a can of lemon-flavored Pelligrino and offered Andrea some fruit since neither of us had the chance to eat breakfast. "You know," I said, "we can stop somewhere for a meal if you're hungry."

"I know," she said. "I just thought a little picnic would be nice."

I nodded and tucked the food back into the cooler as Roy returned to the car with Andrea's caffeine. As the car began to move, Andrea sat up, leaning against my shoulder. "When do you plan to tell the girls?" she asked.

_Oh, right. We were in the middle of a serious conversation before we stopped, _I thought. "I don't know. Hopefully it can wait until they move back home. Although," I added, "the more I think about it, the more I think we should tell them before they move home so they have a chance to get used to it."

"And James?"

"Well, I think I have to tell James before I tell the girls—but only right before."

"Would you want me there?" she asked.

"With James, yes," I answered quickly. "I think Cassidy will need some special attention, so I might talk to her alone first, but then we can talk to them together if you want."

"Yes, I would like that."

"Let's just hope we have another month or so," I said, quietly closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

I woke when Roy tapped on the window again. Opening the door, he told us that we would have to leave the car here. He was going to run and get us a small golf cart they use on the grounds, but after exchanging glances with Andrea, I let him know that would not be necessary. He was planning to visit his grandfather, and, well, Andrea and I had other plans.

We both straightened up a bit in the backseat, reapplying lip gloss and taking a sip of water before heading out. I tucked a bottle of cold, still water in my purse just in case. The cemetery was beautiful, really, and seeing so many gravemarkers in a row just sent a chill through my spine. I reached down and held Andrea's hand as she followed the signs and led us toward the Columbarium.

We walked for about twenty minutes before we arrived at the air-conditioned building, where Andrea stood in the Visitor Services line. I took a seat on one of the marble benches and secretly wished I had worn something cooler on this hot day. Andrea returned with a small map; the gentleman at the desk had been kind enough to draw a route for her.

"It's just through there and to the left, it looks like. He says we need visitor badges before we can enter," she said, gesturing at the line of about ten people waiting for badges.

I stood and gently guided her over to the line, patiently standing while visitors in front of us spent a ridiculous amount of time filling out their name and address on a small slip of paper. Without thinking, I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest.

"I can go talk to them about skipping the line, Miranda," Andrea whispered. "I'm sorry I brought you here—I didn't know it would be like this."

I quickly reached out and grabbed Andrea's arm before she had the chance to step out of line. "I am not above waiting in line, Andrea. And please, don't apologize. I think it was technically me who brought you here anyway," I said, picking up her hands and squeezing tightly. I sought out her eyes, hoping to wordlessly convey my support. I could see she was terrified.

Andrea nodded and I pushed her ahead of me as the line inched forward. Soon, we received our visitor badges and proceeded through to view the markers.

The walls were lined floor to ceiling with thousands of plaques. Before I could open my mouth to speak, Andrea stopped in her tracks and pointed at a stone several yards ahead of us. Linking my arm with hers, I slipped on my reading glasses and saw what she was staring at: ANDREW JOSEPH WILLIS, COX. b. 7/15/1922 d. _ SPOUSE d. 3/7/2006.

"They—they can't even put her name on it?" she gasped.

I guided her over to the small bench along the center aisle and softly began tracing circles on her back. "It appears that they place the serviceman or servicewoman's name on the stone," I said, grateful I was able to make that observation so quickly. "This is a military cemetery, so things are very different here."

"Her entire life she lived in the shadow of my grandpa, and even in death she's only known as his fucking spouse," she hissed. "How could my parents let that happen?" she asked.

I firmly wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, her head resting on my shoulder as she cried. With my free hand, I reached into my bag and pulled out several tissues for her to wipe her eyes, though, looking around, I saw several boxes stationed on nearby benches.

After several minutes, her tears subsided, but she still sat wrapped up in my arms. I softly kissed the top of her head and urged her to sit up. Looking into her eyes, I noticed that same sadness I had seen when she showed up on my doorstep several weeks ago.

"Sweetie, do you think you might want to move closer, and—I don't know—touch the stone, or maybe talk to her or say a prayer or something?" I wanted to support her in whatever she needed—even if it meant staying on this bench. But, I also knew that with a lot of emotions surging at once, the little reminder wouldn't hurt.

She handed me her used tissue—which I graciously accepted with an open hand—and walked closer, dropping to her knees in front of the stone. Keeping an eye on her, I deposited the tissue in the trash bin and squirted a health bit of antibacterial gel onto my hands before returning to the bench.

Nearly twenty minutes had gone by and Andrea was still on her knees in front of the marker. I took a deep breath and walked over, dropping to my own knees next to her rather clumsily in my wedges. I reached down and picked up her hand, gently brushing my thumb over her knuckles.

"She would have loved you," Andrea said quietly. "She was the only person in my family who really understood me. She was a feminist at heart, and she knew a kind soul when she saw one."

"I'm sorry I never had the chance to meet her," I said, squeezing her hand tightly.

"Yeah," she said, sighing. "Do you have a pen and paper?" she suddenly turned and asked.

"Yes, of course," I said, releasing her hand as I dug through my bag, providing her with the pad of paper attached to my checkbook. She carefully wrote something and tore the sheet of paper out, handing the book back to me. I watched as she reached up and affixed the paper to the plaque, tucking it carefully into the lower corner.

"There," she said, sitting back. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder as I read the words: ELEANOR ANDREA WILLIS, BELOVED GRANDMOTHER 3.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, softly pressing my lips to her temple.

She took a few deep breaths, then turned to me. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, standing to her feet. My body was nowhere near as limber as hers, and I could already feel that my left ankle had fallen asleep completely, which would make walking an unfortunate sight.

"Help?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders as I held my hand out for her to pull me to my feet.

She smiled and wrapped her arm around me while I twirled my sleeping foot in circles to get the circulation flowing. "Okay? Ready?" she asked.

"Would you mind if I just take one minute alone here?" I asked.

"Oh. Uh, sure, of course," she said, quickly stepping away.

Standing in front of the beautiful sign Andrea had just laid at her grandmother's grave, I closed my eyes and offered up a meagre prayer: _Eleanor, Please forgive me, as I'm not really the religious type—but I care very much about your granddaughter, and it kills me to see her in such agony. Please watch over her—or whatever it is that you can do. As you probably know, she deeply admired you, and I'm really afraid that I'm not enough. But thank you for leading Andrea to me—or me to her—I can assure you I will do my best to love and protect her for the rest of my life… _

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, a single tear cascading down my cheek. Turning around, I met Andrea and linked my arm in hers, heading back towards the car.

"Can I ask what that was about?" Andrea said once we were some distance from the Columbarium.

I stopped walking and turned to face her, taking her cheek softly in my hand. "I thanked her for leading you to me, and I promised her I would love and protect you all the days of my life," I said, gazing into her deep brown eyes.

She quickly kissed me on the lips before pulling me into a hug, burying her face in my neck. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

I held her, waiting for her to pull her head up. "How about we find a nice, shady patch of grass and have some of that chicken salad you made?" I asked as we approached the car. She pulled out the cooler, and I grabbed a medium-sized canvas blanket from the trunk that the girls and I use whenever we go to events in the park. Andrea selected a spot at the foot of a giant oak tree, facing the water. There was a surprisingly cool breeze for such a hot day, I thought as I spread out the blanket and took a seat against the oak.

Andrea opened the cooler and pulled out two acrylic plates, spooning a little bit of chicken salad, fruit salad, cheese, and crackers onto each before handing me one, along with a napkin.

"Did you want me to open the wine?" she asked.

"Not for me," I said. I had been feeling a little dehydrated after the tears yesterday and heat today, opting instead for a cool bottle of still water.

We quietly nibbled at our plates in companionable silence. While I was still thinking back to the issue of friendship, I found that I was more concerned about Andrea's relationship with her family than anything else at the moment.

"Miranda—"

"Andrea—" we both spoke at once. Smiling, I gestured for her to continue.

"Miranda, you _are _my friend—my best friend, in fact. No one else would do this with me," she said, her voice trailing off as she played with a grape on her plate.

"I know, darling. I'm sorry I made a big deal about it before. I guess I was just afraid of losing the connection we had. I—I—" I paused, licking my lips and setting my plate down before continuing. "I think I was worried that once things had settled with your grandma…well…that you would no longer need me around."

"Miranda, that's not true at all," she said, quickly turning. "I think my concern over my grandma certainly provided an opportunity for us, but it was never the reason. I mean, really, we could say the same thing about Stephen after that night at the gala."

"Darling, you are so very smart," I said, "that is absolutely true."

As I turned to look out over the river, I saw a quick reflection from something in the bushes near the banks.

"Andrea, don't move," I whispered. "I believe there is a photographer in the bush," I said.

Andrea looked down at her plate and ate a small bite of cheese. "What should we do?" she asked quietly.

"Reach into my bag over there as if it's yours, and pull out some paper as if you're scribbling something down," I said. "I will get up and walk back to the car, if you can quickly gather things up." I stood, angling my head down at the brunette as if I were giving an order. "I'm so sorry," I said before quickly snapping my head back and marching off to the town car.

Several minutes later, Andrea placed the cooler in the front seat and returned to sit next to me. "I'm so sorry about that, Andrea," I said. I was extremely nervous—petrified, in fact. What if there had been photographers when I cupped her cheek, or when she kissed my lips?

"It's okay. We can't take any chances," she said. "I understand."

"But it shouldn't have to be like this," I said, clutching the leather seat. "We shouldn't have to hide. You shouldn't have to act as if you're my assistant. I should be able to do whatever the hell I want."

"Someday," Andrea said. "This will be over soon enough. I just hope we can talk to the girls in time."

"Let's hope we don't have to have that discussion first thing tomorrow morning," I added. "Actually—I'm going to give Leslie a call. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, go ahead," she said as I began to dial.

"Hi, Leslie? Yes, we are at Arlington National Cemetery and…yes, Andrea and I—and we think we spotted some photographers in the bushes…No, I'm not certain…Well, we were having a friendly, but innocent picnic under a tree, but I marched off to the car and left Andrea to clean up once we spotted them…Um, maybe? A gentle touch and a quick kiss…Yes…Yes…Please. I can't have the girls hearing about this before I can speak with them…No…We were visiting her grandmother's urn…Yes, that's fine. Thank you. Call me if there is news."

Ending the phone call, I sank back into the seat and closed my eyes. "Andrea, it is highly embarrassing when your PR rep needs to tell you to stop acting like a teenager. I do not recommend it," I said.

"Does she think it will make the news?"

"She's not sure. She said there have been a few photos from Arlington that have come through in the past few months, but she agreed that the picnic shots were not the ones to worry about."

"But, you don't think—"

"Andrea, I don't know. I wasn't looking for cameras, I was focused on you," I said, throwing my arms up.

"_I was going to say,_" Andrea began, "you don't think they will show up in tomorrow's paper, do you? Photogs can't usually turn around and sell an image in that quick of time unless it's a breaking news event."

I pursed my lips. She did have a point.

"And plus, even if they did see you with your hand on my cheek, it's not scandalous enough to bump premium Sunday coverage. If anything, it will be tucked inside Page Six of the Post on Monday or Tuesday."

I sighed. I know that was supposed to make me feel better, but it wasn't working. "We need to tell the girls tomorrow," I said.

"Okay, what's the plan, chief?"

I turned and gave her a quizzical stare. "_Chief?_"

"Well, I didn't think _sweetie_ held quite the same authority," she said, blushing.

I shook my head, thinking about how much I loved this woman beside me.

"Okay. When they arrive, I'd like to eat right away, as I don't want to miss out on my promised dinner with them. Then, I'm thinking you can take the girls and Patty our for a bit while I talk to James, and when you bring them back, we can tell them together."

"I thought you wanted me with you when you talk to James?"

"I did—I do. But I know the girls will be concerned if I try to send them upstairs or something. This is fine. It will be okay," I said.

"If you find yourself needing to slug James again, I fully support that," Andrea said.

I smiled, just as Roy returned to the car.

"Are you ladies ready to head back?" he asked.

"Sure, whenever you're ready, Roy. If you haven't had a chance to have lunch, please help yourself to anything in the cooler before we head out. Except the chocolates—I don't think Andrea will share those," I added with a smile.

"Thank you, Miranda," he said, opening the cooler and fixing himself a small plate while he started the car and got the air conditioning running. "And thanks again for letting me visit Pops, too."

"Of course, Roy. I'm glad you were able to make it."

Within fifteen minutes, we were back on the road to the city. We kept the privacy glass down, opting to listen to the soothing tones of whatever NPR station Roy had on. Andrea and I were both curled up on the spacious backseat, her arm draped protectively over mine as we used the fleece blanket for a pillow. _This is bliss, _I thought. _Even with its ups and downs, there was no place I'd rather be than in Andrea's arms. _

TBC


	27. Part 5 Chapter 3

Chapter 5, part 3

"I can't sleep," I said, reaching over and switching the bedside light on.

"Neither can I," Andrea replied, sighing and nudging the covers down.

Once we returned to the townhouse, I fixed a light dinner and we headed upstairs to the study to wind down. I sat at my desk to go over the Book while Andrea was curled up on the sofa, reading through articles on _The Mirror_'s website, trying to familiarize herself with the different writing styles of the journalists she would be working with. Forgoing anything too intimate, we shared a brief but tender goodnight kiss before curling up in bed.

"What time is it?"

"2:11AM," I replied, sighing. I knew what was keeping me up—thoughts about those damn paparazzi and the position they were now putting me in with my girls.

"It's going to work out," Andrea whispered, propping herself up on her elbow as she squinted against the soft light of the lamp. "The girls—they will still move home."

I opened my eyes, slowly turning to meet Andrea's gaze. How could she have known that was what I was worried about more than anything else? "I hope so," I whispered as she wrapped me safely in her arms.

I messaged James early Sunday morning, asking him to come by for brunch at one o'clock instead, as it not only required less preparation on my part, but also served to let me see the girls sooner than I had planned—if only by a few hours. So far, none of the news outlets included anything about our trip to Arlington, and Leslie's assistant confirmed that there were no photos circulating on Getty or APNewswire.

"You probably don't need to tell them today," Andrea said as she set the table for five.

"No, we're doing it today!" I said, practically shouting. After the words escaped my mouth, I quickly clasped my hand over my mouth, turning away from Andrea.

"Hey," she said softly, the gentleness of her hand on my lower back reminding me she just dropped what she was doing to be at my side. "Is everything okay?"

Fighting back tears, I simply shook my head. "I'm scared," I said, turning into her arms. She gently coaxed me to the floor, kneeling next to me as I launched into a breakdown. "If they don't… if they're not… what… I can't choose… they can't make me!" I cried as my sobs competed with my words.

"Ohh, shhh, shh," she whispered, holding me tightly. "It's going to be okay," she said over and over again as I struggled to catch my breath, inhaling large gulps of air. "The girls love you, and I know they'll want you to be happy."

"But…what if?"

"Shh," she said, pressing her lips to mine, instantly silencing me. I relaxed against her, our lips pressed together, not moving. Somehow, this was calming me and keeping away the unspoken concern that had been pervading my mind all morning.

After sitting like that for several minutes, I caught my breath and laced my fingers in her hair. I pulled away just enough to look into her eyes. "Thank you, darling," I said, taking her lips in a fierce kiss.

Andrea began trailing her lips down my jawline, latching onto the side of my neck and eliciting a moan from deep within me.

"Andreaa," I moaned, arching my back into her touch. "We can't—"

"Yes we can—we almost have an hour before they'll be here," she said, pushing me onto my back and crawling on top of me, her eyes bright and shining.

I chuckled as Andrea began unbuttoning my shirtdress. "Come here," I said, my hands gently pushing hers away. "Kiss me again," I said, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist and tugging her down. She leaned forward, tossing her long brunette strands over her shoulder and out of my face as she pressed her lips to mine. "Oh, Andrea," I moaned.

Nearly an hour later, I returned to the kitchen, lipstick carefully reapplied. Andrea had prepared a small antipasti platter along with a veggie salad, some hard-boiled eggs, and what looked like french toast soaking in egg.

"Thank you, darling. This looks perfect," I said.

"Will the girls be okay with this? I know it's not pizza," she said.

"Yes, of course. Plus, homemade french toast might be their favorite food."

"Great," she said with a smile. "I even made sure to use organic eggs from a local farm for Cassidy."

"That's very thoughtful," I said. "I'll pour some drinks and make a fresh pot of coffee—why don't you go freshen up?"

Andrea nodded, and I began fussing with the coffee pot.

When the doorbell finally rang, though Andrea offered to answer, I asked her to wait in the kitchen.

"Mooom!" "Mom!" the girls cried as they ran through the door, nearly toppling me over with their hugs.

"My darlings, it's so good to see you," I said, kissing them each on the forehead before standing to greet James. "Andrea is already here. I thought we could have something to eat, and then you and I can sit and talk?" I said, leading James towards the kitchen where the girls were playing with Patricia.

"That's fine," he said.

Our meal was actually quite nice. Everything Andrea prepared was delicious, and as I expected, my daughters devoured the french toast. The girls really carried the conversation, telling us all about a movie they recently saw in one of their classes and asking Andrea questions about her new job. I couldn't help but smile warmly as I again watched the three most important people in my life interact so sweetly.

"When can we go to the park, Mom?" Caroline asked.

_Woof! Woof! _We all chuckled as Patricia starting pacing in front of the front door, barking loudly. "Well, you know she does not like to be teased about the p-a-r-k, so you better head out now," I said, standing up. "Why don't you girls get your shoes on and put Patricia's leash on?—I have to speak with Andrea for just a second," I said, nodding for Andrea to follow me into the sitting room.

"Here's some money in case they want something to eat or drink. Make sure to get Patricia some water, especially if you go far, and…"

"Hey," Andrea said, squeezing my hands. "It's going to be okay. Do you want me to stay back? I can get Emily to take the girls," Andrea said.

"No, no, it will be fine."

"Okay. Text me if you need anything at all," she said, reaching her thumb up to brush the tears from my left eye. "You can do this," she said, kissing me gently on the forehead before running off to catch the girls as they headed out the front steps.

I closed my eyes and wiped my cheek, taking a deep breath before returning to face James.

"What is going on, Miranda?" James asked, interrupting the silence as he leaned against the doorframe in the sitting room.

"I'm just a little emotional," I said. It was not a lie.

"I see that. But what was going on there," he asked, gesturing wildly in my direction. "with Andrea?!"

I bit my lip, hoping he would calm down as I began to explain. "When we spoke several weeks ago, I told you I changed—that something was different."

"Yeah…and you said something about how Andrea's grandmother died and it made you all reflective. Miranda, what is going on?"

"I fell in love," I said, biting my lower lip and closing my eyes as I held my breath. "With Andrea."

James ran his hand through his hair and began pacing the living room. Every time he came near me and opened his mouth to speak, I flinched. Never in my life have I wanted to run away from a situation like I did at this very moment.

"Jesus christ, Miranda!" he shouted. "How can you think it's okay—I mean—she's your assistant—she—she—she's a woman!"

By now, I couldn't help the tears that were streaming down my face as I sat down in the corner of the sofa and pulled my knees up to my chest. I was wrong to think he could have changed in the past ten years.

"Miranda, listen to me, is she putting those thoughts into your head?" he asked, his fingers almost painfully gripping my arms. "Or, is it Nigel? Is he poisoning your mind?"

"Stop! STOP!" I screamed. "You're such a fucking asshole," I cried. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. She—she's changed me."

"Yeah, I'll say," he said, finally releasing my arms. "Can't you see how wrong this is, Mira? Thank god the girls aren't around to hear this."

"James, I want the girls to know. I hoped you would stay so we can all tell them together."

"Wait—that's why?" he asked, jumping up and resuming his pacing. "I need a drink," he said, heading to the kitchen as I mentally prepared myself for phase two. I genuinely did not want to argue with him. For once, I felt like I didn't have the energy to fight.

Meanwhile, Andrea and the girls were sitting down at a small cafe while Patricia got a drink of water from the bowl. Andrea had sent a few text messages to check up on everything back at the townhouse and was beginning to grow worried that she received no reply.

"Hey girls, why don't we start heading back? I know you probably want to spend some time with your mom before going home tonight," Andrea said.

"Ugh! I wish we didn't have to go home. Dad is such a jerk sometimes," Caroline said.

Andrea wanted to stay out of that argument, so she just shrugged and started walking back in the direction of the townhouse, sending another text message: "Is everything okay? Please say something—I'm worried. I love you. xo"

Seconds later, the phone dinged with an incoming message: "Hi Andy, can you please bring the girls back to my house? :)"

Andrea stared at the phone for several minutes, trying to decipher the strange message until it hit her—Miranda didn't write that message. It was all wrong. It must have been James, then. Before she let her mind go crazy imagining scenarios, she quickly engaged the girls in a fun game of "Let's see who can make it to the next block the fastest," which basically meant they were sprinting home.

When James returned to the living room with a glass of scotch, Miranda didn't even notice he had her Blackberry in his other hand. She was very focused on what she was going to say next.

"James, the girls are coming home to live with me—permanently—in three weeks when the schoolyear is through."

"I will not allow it. You're not going to poison them with this garbage, Miranda—I won't let them be raised to think that!"

"That WHAT? That it's okay to love whomever you wish? That all human beings are equal? Is that what you won't let them think!?" I practically growled. "Would you prefer them to grow up preaching hatred and intolerance?"

"Miranda that's not what I meant."

"No, it is," I said, rising to my feet to face him and channeling my best Ice Queen persona. "You've always been that way, just never towards me before. You think America should 'fix' these 'problems and we should hide them from our children—_our children_, James!"

"Miranda, listen. I can get you help. I know someone who does hypnosis and speciali—"

"Fuck you, James. Fuck! You! I know I haven't been a perfect mother. I've definitely made some questionable decisions in the past twenty years, and I'm truly sorry that I've hurt you along the way. But, now, for the first time in my entire fucking life, I feel alive. Happy. Confident. I want nothing more than to share my life with my daughters before it's too late, and I will not have you turning my girls against me!"

"You know what? When we all get home tonight, we're going to have a nice long talk. What you're doing is disgusting, Miranda. I will not have my daughters exposed to that—or to the media circus that will follow you for years. _This_," he said, thrusting my phone in my face, "will not last. She's using you, Miranda. She's a whore."

"Where did you get that? Give it back!" I shouted, lunging for my phone.

"You were careless and left it on the counter. Is this what you want your daughters to see? Text conversations and _sexting_?"

I lunged for the phone again, but he quickly darted out of the way and I fell to my hands and knees on the carpet.

"You're too fucking lonely and desperate to see through it. You're fifty, not sixteen, Miranda. She's a golddigger. Wake up before you ruin my daughters' lives!" he shouted as I collapsed against the floor, burying my head against my arm.

"Get. Out. Of my. House!" I shouted between sobs. "Get out!" I screamed at the top of my lungs before succumbing once again to my tears.

When Andrea and the girls reached the front porch, they paused to catch their breath. "Why don't you two run up to your mom's bedroom and take Patricia with you? Don't worry about taking your shoes off or anything, just go up there and wait for your mom," Andrea instructed.

"Why?" Cassidy asked.

"I know your mom wants to talk to you, and, well," they froze as they heard Miranda screaming at James to get out.

"Go—upstairs, now," Andrea said, unlocking the door and shooing them all inside. Luckily, Patricia was still in sprinting mode so they practically flew up the steps as Andrea raced into the living room.

I was instantly comforted when I felt her arms wrap around me, her lips softly pressing against my hair as she tried to calm me down. After several minutes following the rise and fall of her chest, I lifted my head.

"Miranda, did he hurt you?" Andrea frantically asked.

"No, I'm okay," I said, gazing at the strong young woman beside me. I know I must have looked like a wreck by then, but seeing Andrea's eyes light up, the only thing on my mind was kissing her.

"What was that for?" she asked as she slowly pulled away.

"I love you, Andrea," I said, taking her face between my hands. "I really do. No matter what anyone else thinks."

"Okay…I love you, too. What happened that had you screaming at James like that?" she asked.

"Wait—where are the girls?" I said, suddenly jumping up and looking around in panic. "Is James still here?!"

"Relax," she said, helping me to my feet and wrapping her arms around my waist. "The girls are upstairs with Patricia in your bedroom, waiting to talk to you. James ran out when I came in."

"What am I going to tell them?" I said. "What if they think like James?"

"_We—_what are _we_ going to tell them. I told you, we're in this together. Now, what happened with James?"

I sighed. I should have told her beforehand, but part of me knew she would have never let me have that conversation on my own. _I probably shouldn't have_, I thought.

"When I first met him, he was very…_critical…_of those who choose to live their lives differently than he does. His family is very conservative, and I had hoped after living in New York City for the past thirty or forty years, he would have somehow understood…"

"It's okay," Andrea said, hugging me tightly. "I get it. I'm so sorry you had to do that alone."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She shrugged. "Are you worried about the girls?"

"I wasn't. But after talking to James, who knows what he's been putting in their heads," I admitted.

"Well, I don't know exactly how they'll react, but I have a feeling they will be demanding some answers when you get upstairs," Andrea said.

"Why?"

"They heard you screaming," she said, wincing.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled away from Andrea's embrace and clasped her hand, offering her a forced smile. I couldn't have her think she had done anything wrong. Today, she was nothing short of a lifesaver.

I knocked gently before opening my bedroom door, smiling at the girls cuddled with the giant Saint Bernard on the bed, watching TV.

"Mom, are you okay?" Cassidy asked, quickly rushing off the bed and hugging me. I glanced at myself in the mirror and understood the concerned expression.

"Let me just clean up my face," I said, releasing my hand from Andrea's. "Give me a minute."

Cassidy followed me into the bathroom and watched as I cleaned the makeup stains with a cotton ball and some cleanser. My eyes were still red and puffy, but nothing was going to fix that right now. Looking at Cassidy's reflection in the mirror, I smiled. "Better?"

"Yah, a lot better," she said, giggling as I pinched her waist. "Oh, Mom?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I, uh, brought this back," she said as she pulled a white Hermes scarf from her pocket. "I need a new one."

"Okay, darling," I said with a smile, softly kissing my daughter on the cheek. "I'll give you one before you leave," I said. "Hey Cass, what do you think of Andrea?"

"She's cool. Why?"

"She's a very, very good friend, and I've come to care about her a lot. I hope you and your sister can get to know her more, because I know she cares about you, too," I explained.

I watched as my daughter thought about what I said. "Do you love Andy, Mom?"

"Yes, I do, baby. I love her very much."

"Well, then I love her too," Cass said, wrapping her arms around my waist in a hug.

I smiled brightly at my sweet, loving daughter before leading her back into the bedroom where Caroline and Andrea were awkwardly watching the muted television.

I walked over and turned off the program, taking a seat on the bed. "First, I'm sorry if you heard your father and I talking earlier. You must know that we love you both very much. We only fight sometimes because we don't love each other anymore."

They nodded in agreement as I reached behind me for Andrea's hand. She quickly joined me and wrapped her other arm around my shoulder. "But I do love Andrea," I said, biting my lip as I waited for their reaction.

"And I love your mom," Andrea added after a brief silence.

"That's it? That's what you were going to tell us?" Caroline said.

"Yes," I said. I was confused. Did this mean they were okay with it?

"Car, I told you Mom wasn't pregnant!" Cassidy said, playfully hitting her sister as she smiled over at Andrea and me.

We quickly exchanged surprised glances. "No, I am definitely _not_ pregnant," I said. "But do you understand what I meant when I said I loved Andrea? Are you okay with that?"

"You mean like gay, right?" Cassidy asked.

"Why are you asking us if we're okay?" Caroline said. It seemed they were more confused than I was right now.

"I have been spending a lot of time with Andrea lately since she left _Runway_," I said, being sure to stress that detail. "And, as you know, photographers are everywhere, so—"

"What do we need to expect?" Caroline asked in a very businesslike manner.

"Nothing, darling. Nothing right now. Andrea and I went to visit her grandmother's ashes yesterday at Arlington and we had a friendly picnic. I saw a photographer, but I wasn't sure if they saw us holding hands or kissing on the cheek."

Caroline shrugged.

"So you really don't think it's weird or anything?" I asked in disbelief.

"No. I mean, it's like Uncle Nigel, right? You just like girls," Caroline said.

"Yes, but not exactly _girls._ Just one girl—Andrea," I said, resting my head against her shoulder.

Caroline and Cassidy exchanged glances before Cassidy finally spoke: "That's cool with us."

I reached over and hugged them both. I couldn't have asked for two more wonderful daughters. When Cassidy reached around and pulled Andrea into our family hug, I felt a tear trail down my cheek.

"When can we move in?" Cassidy asked as we pulled apart.

"Well, this is kind of what your dad and I were disagreeing about earlier. We both want what's best for you, but we have different ideas of what that means," I said.

"Can we just stay here and have Cara bring our stuff over tomorrow?" Caroline asked.

"Darling, it's not so simple. You have school in the morning." I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried to think of a way to tell them their father was homophobic without including words like "asshole" and I was coming up blank.

As was the case more and more, Andrea sensed my struggle and took over. "Girls, like you said before, your dad can be a jerk sometimes. He's a good dad because he loves you, but he's not always nice to people he doesn't love. Some people are very closed-minded. They don't like new things or changing the way things work. In their minds, boys are supposed to marry girls and things like that. It's hard for them to understand why others would think differently from them—it's hard for your dad to understand why your mom chooses to love someone like me."

"But you're awesome, Andy! Maybe he just doesn't know you!" Cassidy said, hugging Andrea.

"Aww, thank you, sweetie," she said, "but sometimes people like that are very determined _not_ to know. They are proud of their ignorance, and they do not like to learn new things. No matter what, I want you to know it's not your job to get your dad to like me. You just focus on being you, okay? And let me or your mom know if you have any questions or if anyone says anything to you."

"Okay," they said in unison.

I reached over and took Andrea's hand, gently bringing it to my lips. "Thank you," I whispered. "I love you."

"So, Andy's your girlfriend? Is she going to live here?" Caroline asked.

"Yes, temporarily," I said with a smile. "She moved out of her old apartment and is moving into a new one next week," I explained. "Maybe she'll invite you over for pizza and movies sometime after she gets settled," I said, teasing Andrea with my elbow.

"We'll plan it for a night when your mom has a meeting at work—then we can have pizza, ice cream, _and _candy!" Andrea said, giggling with my daughters as I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, all the stuff mom won't let us eat!" Caroline said, grinning at her sister.

"_Stuff_, Bobbsey? What about 'foods' or something?" I suggested. "You are well-educated and I do hope you have learned enough words by now to string together an eloquent sentence."

"Mom! You do realize you said 'stuff' at least three times during dinner tonight, right?" Cassidy said.

"And last week, you definitely said it on the phone!"

"I opened my mouth to defend myself, but began chuckling when I saw Andrea was trying very hard to keep from laughing. "And you?" I asked.

"Yes! Jeez, Miranda, I even have text messages from you!" Andrea said, laughing loudly with my daughters. The mention of the text messages sent a strange chill through my body.

"I'll be right back," I said, suddenly jumping off the bed. "I need to—find—I'll be right back." At that moment, the only thing I could think of was finding my Blackberry.

Rushing down the stairs, quickly scanned the kitchen, den, and foyer, but it wasn't in any of the usual places. Remembering how I lunged at James, I went to the opposite side of the room and found my phone on the floor between the bookcase and side table, the battery cover popped off the back.

My hands were shaking as I knelt and turned the device back on.

"Hey," Andrea called as she descended the stairs. "Did you find what you—Miranda?" she gasped, crouching down next to me on the floor. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

I nodded, and she pulled me into her arms. When I was finally able to take a deep breath, I sat up and pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I just—I don't know what happened. You mentioned text messages and I immediately had this fear that James had taken my phone."

"It's okay," Andrea said, squeezing my hand in reassurance. "What can I do?" she asked.

"Where are the girls?"

"They're in their rooms, rearranging something."

I nodded. "Just hold me…please."

We sat like that, huddled against the bookcase for several minutes. If I had a clear head, I would have wondered why Andrea's touch was so calming. Just then, the girls came down the stairs.

"Mom? Andy?" they called. "Mom! Are you okay?"

I squeezed Andrea's hand and stood up. "Yes, my darlings, I'm fine," I said, walking over to them and hugging them tightly. "I can't get over how nice it is to have you two home."

"We want to come back, Mom. I don't like living at dad's but he says we have to," Caroline said.

"Oh, Bobbsey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'll talk to your dad again and we can figure this out, okay?"

"But Mom, he was being mean to you!"

"Oh darling, don't worry. I can be mean, too, when necessary," I said with a grin as the girls and Andrea began giggling.

Because the girls begged me to let them stay the night, we called James on speakerphone and they politely asked if they could spend the next few nights. I knew James was hesitant, but I was relieved when he didn't say anything in front of the girls, instead promising to drop off their school bags and some clothes later that evening.

After a light dinner of leftovers, James arrived, quite literally dropping off a suitcase and two book bags without saying a word. The girls were thrilled to be spending the night and eagerly took to arranging their rooms and finishing their homework at my kitchen table—_our_ kitchen table.

Later that evening, I decided there was something I wanted to show them. "Why don't you girls come with me? I have something to show you," I said, leading them into the closet in my bedroom.

"Why are we going into the closet?" my daughter asked.

"I want to show you something," I said, reaching up to the box on the top shelf. Sitting on the floor with them, I carefully opened the box.

"You girls remember Grandma Harriet, right?"

"Yeah, she used to squeeze us really tight when she hugged us!" Cassidy said, giggling at the memory.

I smiled at my precious daughters. I, too, remember how my mother gushed over the girls. "Now, please be very careful—some of these letters are fragile," I said as I pulled out the cards banded together that my mother wrote to them. "Here, these are some cards your grandma wrote to you when you were just babies."

"What is all that?" Cassidy asked, pointing at the other letters and cards in the box.

"These are letters she sent me."

"You saved all those?"

"Yeah. It's a nice reminder," I said, feeling my emotions growing too close to the surface. "Andrea?" I called out.

"I'm in here," she called from the bedroom.

"Come here." She took my outstretched hand and sat next to me on the floor. "Why were you out there?"

"It seemed like a family thing," she said, shrugging. "I didn't want to impose."

"Darling," I whispered, turning my head so my daughters couldn't read my lips, "You could never impose. I love you. I need you, here, at my side."

We spent several hours reading through the cards, my girls and I laughing and crying as we shared memories of my mother. As the girls carefully put the the cards away, I reached over and linked my arm in Andrea's, kissing her softly on the cheek before resting my head on her shoulder.

"Thank you for putting up with three sentimental Priestlys," I said.

"Thank _you_ for sharing with me," she said, softly kissing the top of my head.

I looked over to the girls, who were suspiciously quiet, only to be met with twin stares.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You look really happy, Mom," Cassidy said.

"I am, darlings, I am. Come here," I said, reaching out and pulling them into my arms.

Once they were settled in their rooms and tucked in, I met Andrea downstairs in the den, practically collapsing into her arms as I burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" Andrea asked as she held me tightly in her arms. One year ago when we first met, I would have never guessed she would be the one to brush away my tears and hold me through the night.

"Nothing," I said. "It's perfect. I just—I don't know."

"Oh, right," Andrea said, "I almost forgot the crying-when-you're-happy thing," she said. "Here, let's lay here for a while," she said as she stretched out and pulled me alongside her.

"I love you," I said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Miranda, while I will never tire of hearing that, you really don't have to tell me two hundred times a day," she said, squeezing me tight.

"I'm sorry. I just—it's all I can think about," I said, quietly curling against her.

Twenty minutes must have passed before either of us spoke.

"What are you thinking about?" Andrea asked.

"You—always, you."

"What about me?" she pressed.

Sighing, I softly began tracing my fingers along her forearm. "When I first met you," I started, "I never in a million years would have guessed you were so strong—that you would be my rock. I never thought I'd be sitting down, explaining to my daughters that I loved another woman, or that you would be helping me teach them about intolerance. This past year—no, really the past two months—so much has changed. But, each night I fall asleep without worrying about what tomorrow will bring. And it feels _so good_. God, Andrea. I don't even have the words to describe what I'm feeling anymore. I just know that I love you so damn much."

I looked up and met Andrea's eyes.

"Darling? Why are _you_ crying?" I asked, suddenly concerned that I hadn't been paying enough attention to her. Was it something I said?

"Because I love you," she whispered, pulling me on top of her and kissing me like it was her last breath.

"Oh Andrea, let me love you," I whispered, moving to straddle her legs.

"No—not here," she groaned, easing my hips off of her. "The girls," she said, swiftly picking me up off my feet. I instinctively wrapped my arms around her neck as she carried me up the stairs and into the bedroom, gently laying me on the bed as she went back to lock the door.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, my lower muscles quivering as I felt the mattress dip.

"Not tonight," she whispered, softly brushing her knuckles along my cheek. "I just want to hold you until you fall asleep," she added with a kiss to my temple.

I pulled myself up towards the headboard. "Is everything alright, darling?"

"Yes. Better than 'alright'—it's perfect," she said. "I've just been thinking about a lot of stuff this weekend, namely how quickly our relationship has progressed, and I…well, I just would prefer the slow-and-steady route."

"Mmmhh," I nodded in agreement, "now you tell me. What other _stuff_ were you thinking about?" I asked with a hint of mischief in my eye.

Within seconds, Andrea and I burst out laughing. I curled against her slide as she protectively wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

"I was thinking about how grateful I am. Some days I wake up and wonder if I'm dreaming."

"Darling, if you're dreaming, I'm having the same incredible dream," I said, kissing her passionately before we drifted off into a restful slumber.

The next day was, well, challenging. It had been months since I got the girls up, ready, and off to school on time, and to complicate things, Andrea was also trying to get ready and out the door for her first day at work.

Having just dropped the girls off at Dalton, I found myself lost in thought, as this was the first time I'd had to myself since, well, Friday morning. I knew Andrea was nervous for her first day, and I wished there was something more I could do to reassure her. If it were possible, I would stay with her all day, but certainly having Miranda Priestly shadowing her would not allow her to establish the credibility she so yearned for.

Since Andrea was too rushed trying on outfits this morning, she didn't have a chance to eat breakfast—and she probably didn't have the opportunity to grab anything once she got off the subway. I felt awful allowing her to ride that crowded, filthy train, but I knew I needed to give her some space to make her own decisions.

As we pulled up to Elias-Clarke, I motioned for Roy to stay in the car. I quickly pulled out a $20 bill and scribbled a note.

"Roy? Can you do me a favor?" I asked.

"Of course, anything," he responded.

"Please stop at that cupcake place Andrea likes on 58th and get her a cupcake—red velvet, I think. Then, please deliver it to her at _The Mirror _with this," I said, handing him the note and the cash.

"Of course, Miranda," he said.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, Roy, but—I just can't—"

"I understand," he said. "You can't have Emily or a messenger do this without revealing your relationship. Don't worry. I'll be discreet."

"Thank you," I said. "See you later."

Roy tipped his hat and I exited the vehicle, marching through the doors and into the waiting elevator. Time to pull it together.

Meanwhile, Andrea had just finished meeting with Human Resources at _The Mirror _and John was showing her to her new office, as well as introducing her to the staff. He gave her the next few hours to finish some paperwork, and had arranged for a lunch with his team to welcome her to their department.

Andrea was starving. Having already finished the forms and setting up her email, she casually began rearranging her desk—anything to keep her from checking the clock or texting Miranda.

Then, she overheard a familiar voice speaking to the administrative assistant at the desk near the door. Smiling, she looked up as Roy gave a wink before heading out the door. Lizzy, their assistant—_her _assistant—softly knocked on the door.

"Ms. Sachs? I have a delivery for you," she said quietly.

"Thank you, Lizzy," Andrea responded, taking the small box from the young girl and closing the door behind her.

She certainly recognized the box, and knew it could only be one of maybe three people who would send her something on her first day. Opening the lid, she saw a small note nestled against a delicious-looking red velvet cupcake from Crumbs.

_My darling Andrea,  
I wish you the very best as you embark upon a new journey in your career today. I am so very proud of you. I love you so much it hurts.  
Always,  
MP xo_

Andrea's fingers softly traced the paper, fighting back tears. When her eyes returned to the cupcake—complete with a miniature fork and knife—she began to laugh. "No one at _Runway _would ever believe that Miranda sent sickly sweet and sugary cupcake to someone, hoping they would eat and enjoy it!" she said to herself before digging in to the satisfying treat.

Lizzy quietly interrupted her thoughts. "Ms. Sachs, we're leaving for lunch in five minutes."

"Thanks, Lizzy. And please, call me Andy," she said. The young assistant nodded before heading back.

Gathering her bag and coat, she quickly sent a message: "Best breakfast ever. I love you and miss you. Be nice to your new second assistant today, please. I'll see you at home and make everything up to you. ;)"

I grinned as an incoming text message dinged on my Blackberry—I knew Andrea must have received my present. Chuckling, I quickly replied "I can't wait. :)"

I didn't see Andrea until nearly 7:00 PM that evening when she finally returned home. I left the office at 2:30 to go with Roy to pick up the girls, and I worked from my office at home for the rest of the afternoon. The girls were just finishing their homework when Andrea walked in the door, and it warmed my heart to hear them rush to the door to greet her and ask about her day.

"Moommm! Andy's home—and she's starved, she says. Can we eat now?!" Caroline shouted upstairs.

Smiling, I closed my laptop and turned off the light in my office, meeting my family at the base of the stairs. _Family_, I thought, _that sounds nice._

"Andrea," I said, "how was your first day?"

My daughters were each holding one of her hands, trying to tug her towards the kitchen.

"Moomm, let's just eat. She can tell you at the table," Cassidy said, rolling her eyes.

Andrea shrugged and followed the girls into the kitchen.

"Cassidy, why don't you clear your schoolwork off and set the table? Caroline, please get the salad from the refrigerator. I need to talk to Andrea in private for a minute."

The girls groaned as they reluctantly let go of Andrea's hands and headed into the kitchen.

I quickly tugged Andrea's hand and pulled her down the hall and into the bathroom, pinning her against the back of the door as I pressed my lips against hers.

"Ohh, Andrea," I moaned as her hands slipped under my blouse. "Oh god, I missed you, darling."

"Miraaaaanda," she moaned as our lips danced across each other's skin, "oh, I'm so ready—I need you."

"But the girls—"

"Hurry, quick," she said, unbuttoning her pants and pushing them down around her knees.

I slid my hand inside her lacy underwear and quickly slid my fingers inside, pinching her rosy bud with my thumb as her orgasm washed over her. I pulled my fingers out and licked her juices as I grabbed a washcloth and gently cleaned her up—enough that she could survive dinner, anyway.

"Thank you," she panted. Her cheeks were rosy and I could see beads of sweat along her hairline.

"More later," I said with a wink as I slipped out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen to take the lamb chops from the oven where they were keeping warm.

Andrea joined us in the kitchen two minutes later. "Thanks guys, I needed to freshen up," she said as she took her seat. "This looks delicious, thanks!"

"Thank _you_," I whispered, leaning over and kissing her softly on the cheek as she began to tell us all the details of her first day at work.

After the girls went to bed, I realized how much I enjoyed catching up with the young woman. Even though I found myself thinking of her far too often during the work day, knowing that I would be able to spend time with her in the evening was comforting.

"So, closing is on Wednesday, right?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, sipping my tea as I browsed through the Book.

"I wish I could be there with you."

"Darling," I said, "you really shouldn't be there anyway. Jonathan is coming with me—it should be very quick since they don't have to wait for the bank to transfer the balance."

"Huh?"

"It's a cash sale. There will be no mortgage, so the bank doesn't have to wire money to the third-party holding company," I explained. "Let's talk about something else," I said. I honestly didn't mind discussing the closing, but I was extremely nervous about James or Stephen discovering our arrangement with the condo. _Stephen_, I thought. My court date to finalize the divorce was approaching—on Thursday.

"I'm sorry," Andrea said, setting her glass of water on the coaster. "I'm going to head to bed—I—I'm going to have a busy day tomorrow," she said before she walked out of the study.

As she shut the door behind her, I took off my glasses and closed the Book. "Shit!" I said, resting my head in my hands. I didn't intend to push her away, but it was clear that's what I did.

When I walked into the bedroom, Andrea was curled up facing the window. The lights were off. I quickly used the bathroom and changed into my pajamas before crawling into bed and snuggling up behind the young woman.

"Darling, I'm sorry. I just wanted to change the subject. I was starting to worry about James using you against me, and I just needed to think about something different."

"I'm clearly being bothersome to you," she said. "I can go to the guest room or get a hotel—"

"No. No! Andrea, look at me!" I said, sitting up with her and turning her shoulders to face me. "Don't—why are you doing this to me?" I cried, bringing my left fist to my mouth to stifle my sobs. I didn't want my daughters waking up to me crying.

I knew I was manipulating Andrea. I knew she couldn't resist my tears and would wrap her arms around me in an instant, but it's not like the tears weren't honest.

"Shh, I'm sorry," she said, kissing my cheek and taking my hands. "I'm sorry, Miranda. I'm just being emotional. We both have a lot of changes in our lives right now."

"Please—don't leave me," I cried, "not yet—I love you."

"Miranda, I'm not leaving—never," she said. That evening, I was lulled to sleep by Andrea's sweet reassurance.

TBC


	28. Part 5 Chapter 4

Chapter 5, Part 4

Tuesday passed much like Monday, but minus one delicious breakfast cupcake. On Wednesday, Andrea left early for work, and I again planned to leave the office by three in order to be home with my daughters. The school year would be over in a few weeks, and I knew I would be forced to have Cara watch them for a few hours a day during the summer. Right now, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with them.

It wasn't until now that I realized I had taken my full custody privileges for granted. I could have been spending every waking moment with them, but I chose _Runway_ instead. It wasn't difficult to leave a few hours early. I actually found it quite simple to focus on my work when the girls were doing their homework at the dining room table with me.

Before Andrea, there was little doubt that their father would win a legal battle against me. Come to think of it, it was strange that I hadn't heard from James since Sunday.

"Miranda?" Emily called quietly from the doorway, jolting me from my thoughts. "It is 12:15 PM, and Roy is waiting downstairs with Jonathan."

I quickly jumped up, nearly forgetting about the closing. I grabbed my bag from under my desk and met Emily where she was holding the elevator for me. "Have the apartment painted this afternoon, then cleaned. There is furniture on hold at the store I like, so arrange to have that delivered tomorrow. That's all," I said as the elevator doors shut.

I smiled to myself—sending Emily on these little missions always made me smile. I hadn't given her the address, keys, paint colors, or name of the furniture store, but I knew she would have everything executed flawlessly. Although, thinking back to her choice of eyeshadow today, maybe I shouldn't have let her choose the paint colors.

The closing went by quickly, as expected. By 1:15 PM, I was strolling back into _Runway. _I deposited the spare key on Emily's desk with strict instructions not to make a copy. She jumped up to show me a few new designs we received from Thierry Mugler, and I instructed her to take them to Nigel before walking into my office and shutting the door.

"Hello, Andrea Sachs please?" I said after dialing the number to Andrea's office.

"Just one moment. May I inform her who is calling?" an all-too-cheerful assistant asked.

"Miranda."

"…do you have a last name?"

"No. If you do not connect me to her extension in the next five—"

"Miranda?" Andrea answered frantically. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Darling. Hello," I said sweetly.

"Is everything okay? Lizzy is practically in tears."

"Andrea, you need to figure out how one makes a direct call in your office. I simply cannot keep going through that incompetent…_Lizzy."_

Andrea chuckled, "Okay. I'll figure it out before I leave. How is your day?"

"Fine, just fine. I'm looking at the keys to your new apartment now," I said with a smile, even though she couldn't see me.

"Yayy!" she squealed into the phone.

"Calm down," I said, laughing. "What time will you be home tonight?"

"Probably late again—I'm sorry. I just really want to get up to speed here," she explained.

"I understand, darling. Should we hold dinner for you?"

"No. The girls need to eat at a decent time. But thank you. I will try to be home by 8."

"That's fine," I said. "I have a lot to work on for tomorrow anyway. I'll see you later, darling."

"Bye, Miranda. Oh—" she added, "thank you for calling me at work. It's nice to hear your voice during the day."

"Likewise," I said, ending the call before heading back to my desk to finish reviewing the accessories layout.

Once Roy picked up the girls from Dalton, he drove by Elias-Clarke to pick me up and we all rode home together. It was nice, coming home with my daughters, fixing them an after-school snack. _What else did I miss out on all these years? _I wondered.

Later that evening, after homework and dinner, I retired to my study while the girls went to get ready for bed. I closed the door and immediately dialed Leslie to discuss the strategy for tomorrow's divorce proceedings, taking advantage of Andrea's absence.

I was required to be at the courthouse at 10:00 AM, though our case would likely not be called until close to noon, if not after lunch. I had Emily clear my schedule for practically the entire day, save one call with Tokyo at 7:30AM, for which I would have to be in the office early.

Leslie was confident that things would go smoothly. There was nothing to contest, and Stephen was satisfied with his settlement. After all, he was considerably wealthy himself, so it was never really my money he wanted. He did negotiate a Van Gogh work we purchased together at Sothebys, but I had taken it down from the bedroom wall weeks before he even filed for divorce, so that did not matter. Again, Leslie cautioned me not to bring Andrea or any other assistant with me, just to be safe. I agreed.

I hardly heard Andrea come in the house, as I had been staring into space at my desk, deep in thought. I gathered my senses and headed downstairs, seeing that it was nearly 9:30 PM and the Book had not been delivered yet.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said as she dug through the refrigerator, looking for something to eat.

I shrugged my shoulders, knowing I wouldn't have been much company this evening anyway. Stepping closer, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and kissed her softly on the cheek. "Did you have a good day at work?"

"Yes, it's going great," she said, pulling away and grabbing a plate as she set her armful of bread, cheese, turkey, lettuce, and mayonnaise on the counter.

"That's good," I said.

"Is everything okay? You seem kind of distant today," she said.

"No, just tired. Still waiting on the Book, and I have to be in for a 7:30 AM call with Hong Kong—no, wait, _Tokyo_—tomorrow," I said, yawning. Sleep was the only thing that could slow down my mind at this point. "I'm going to run up and tuck the girls in. Can you bring up the Book if it comes?"

"Sure," she said as she carefully constructed her sandwich.

Upstairs, I spent a few minutes with my girls, brushing their hair and talking about school.

"Mom, I like this. Us. Being together like this," Cassidy said.

"Yeah, I love how you're home more now," Caroline added.

"Oh, my darlings, I love it, too. I wouldn't give this up for anything," I said, hugging them both tightly.

"Not even _Runway_?" Caroline asked.

"No, never," I said. "I would quit my job in a heartbeat if I needed to," I said, pulling them in tighter.

"Oofh!" Cassidy grunted. "You're hugging us like Grandma Harriet!" she giggled.

I smiled and kissed each of them on the forehead, tucking them in.

I saw the lights still on downstairs, but for some reason tonight, making conversation with Andrea seemed like too much effort, so I returned to the study and sat at my desk, reading through emails.

Little did I know that downstairs, Andrea was busy texting Emily.

Andy Sachs: "Did you leave the office yet?"

Emily Charlton: "No. Waiting for the Book."

Andy Sachs: "When you bring it, can you also bring me something to wear for Miranda tonight?"

Emily Charlton: "TMI! I shan't!"

Andy Sachs: "Please, Em. Miranda's really stressed this week for some reason. I promise you she will be in a better mood tomorrow…"

Emily Charlton: "Ugh, you win. I wish I knew nothing. What do you want?"

Andy Sachs: "Well, the last thing she really liked was that Versace lace minidress. Do you have anything—dress or even loungewear that may have caught her eye?"

Emily Charlton: "I think I do. Just came in today. She gasped at it, and I presumed she hated it, but now I think I know more than I want to. Okay, Book just came. I'll be over in 20 minutes."

Andy Sachs: "Thanks Em!"

When Andrea came upstairs with the Book, I thought nothing of it. She dropped it at my desk, and I immediately began flipping through the pages.

"You're still in your work clothes?" she asked.

I glanced down at the wrinkled pinstripe suit, the silk camisole untucked. "Yes, I haven't had time to change," I said quickly returning to my task. She sat on the couch with a glass of water, fidgeting as she always did. Knowing I would be out of the office for most of the day tomorrow, I needed to get as much accomplished tonight as humanly possible.

I thought nothing of it when Andrea stood and left the room, nor when she returned a few minutes later. It wasn't until she was standing next to my chair that I finally looked up.

"Andrea," I gasped. I could already feel my throat going dry. I pushed my chair back from the desk as she stalked towards me, my eyes taking in the lace bodystocking she was wearing. It was the same one Emily had shown me this afternoon, but as she was striding closer, I didn't have time to think of how or why it passed from Emily to Andrea.

She slowly straddled me in the chair. My hands were drawn to her skin like magnets. I slowly ran my hands across the thin, silky lace covering her entire body, feeling how she reacted to my touch, her pebbled nipples straining against the smooth lace.

As beautiful as her breasts were encased in lace, I needed to free them. Thankfully, the deep-v neckline allowed me to do so without cutting a hole in the lace—_and yes, that actually crossed my mind._

Her moans were so sweet and delicious as she undulated her hips over mine, snaking her hand down between our legs and pushing my skirt up around my waist. I hissed as she pushed aside my silk thong and plunged her fingers inside me. I finally let go of her breast and rested my hands at her hips, tossing my head backwards as it was growing too complicated to do anything with this beautiful creature undulating inside me.

"Oh god, Andrea—I can't—ohh—ohhh," I babbled.

"Wait—wait for me," she whispered against my neck as she stilled her fingers. She softly took my my hand and slid it backwards, practically cupping her ass. _I could do that_, I thought. But then, she pushed farther, and I realized she was wearing a crotchless bodysuit as i felt her slick folds with my fingertips. "Ohhh, Miranda, I'm so close," she practically growled.

I, too, was ready to explode, so I quickly began pumping my fingers inside her slick walls as she pinched my clit between her thumb and forefinger, bringing me to climax.

Before I realized what was going on, she slid down onto her knees and gently pulled my hips forward to the edge of the chair. I could feel my sticky fluids coating the leather chair I was sitting in, but I didn't have time to think about that when Andrea's tongue began assaulting my core.

"More, oh god, Andrea, harder, faster, more," I begged as I bucked my hips, practically sliding off the slick surface of the chair.

Andrea carefully lifted my legs up and over the arms of the chair so they rested just beneath my knees, keeping my legs spread wide for her. I gasped and moaned as I thoroughly enjoyed this delicious torture at the mouth of my lover. When she finally took my already-hardened bud between her teeth, I came harder than I'd ever come, practically howling in pleasure as she unbuttoned my blouse with her hands. She carefully lowered my feet to the floor and stepped back, leaning on the desk, her lips glistening with my juices.

I stood shakily, quickly discarding my clothes without breaking my gaze. I wanted—no, needed—to feel that exquisite lace against my skin. Pushing the Book and a few photo frames off to the side, I pushed her back onto the desk and climbed on top of her, kissing her neck and décolletage as my hand reached down to her slick folds. Her lace-encased breasts felt exquisite against mine as I slowly slid down to drink her juices.

Her thighs quivered, and by this point she was having difficulty keeping her legs apart. As her lacy inner thigh pressed against my cheek, I abandoned my task to lick and suck her skin, biting small holes in the lace that prevented my tongue from tasting all of her. She was going crazy—I could tell by the way she was pressing her fingers against her clit.

Resuming my earlier task, I thrust my fingers inside as I sucked on her bud, feeling her inner walls clenching my fingers and pulling me deeper as her body grew rigid. As she calmed, I slipped my fingers out and pulled her onto my lap on my chair, holding her close.

Andrea's eyes fluttered opened and she pressed her lips to mine in a passionate kiss.

"Darling," I said, clearing my throat after realizing we hadn't really spoken in the past thirty minutes. "What was all this about? You look incredible in this Versace, if that wasn't clear."

"I thought you might like it," she said with a grin. "Emily said you gasped when you saw it."

"Ahh, I suppose I did," I said, smiling.

"Miranda, will you tell me what's on your mind today?" she asked.

"You, and how much I want to rip this bodysuit off of you," I said.

"No, I think we can have a lot more fun with this one," Andrea said with a wink. "Something was on your mind when I came home, and it was _not_ me. Talk to me, Miranda," she said.

I took a deep breath. "Andrea, I love you—so much," I said. "Why don't you shower and get ready for bed. I'll clean up in here—"

"No. I'll clean up here. I'll meet you in bed, okay?" she said, standing from my lap and helping me off the chair slowly. My sticky, sweaty body was not playing well with the leather chair. "Here," she said, handing me my robe, "I thought you might need this."

"Thank you," I said with a smile, grabbing the Book and heading down the hall to my bedroom to shower.

Fifteen minutes later, Andrea stepped into my bedroom wearing boxers and a tank. She locked the door behind her and crawled into bed next to me. I finished making notes on the last page of the Book and closed it, carefully setting it on the floor before I turned out the light and snuggled into the woman next to me.

"I have a court date tomorrow with Stephen to finalize the divorce," I said, burying my head on the young woman's shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "I'll call in sick tomorrow and come with you."

"No!" I shouted, perhaps a little too loud judging by her reaction. "No. I'm sorry. You cannot come with me. This is why I didn't tell you."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Everything has been going so well. He hasn't contested anything, and this will be one of the quickest, uncomplicated divorces on record. Even Leslie agrees that you cannot be seen with me tomorrow."

"Well, I will wait in the car with Roy and see you when you come out, after it's official," she said.

"No. Andrea, please. If Stephen doesn't make it an issue, then maybe, I don't know, maybe it won't be an issue for James," I said.

"Have you talked to him?"

"No. Not since Sunday. I'm scared. What if he tries to file for custody?"

"Relax," she said, soothingly tracing her hand along my back. "One step at a time. Tomorrow you'll be in court with Stephen, and Leslie will be there with you. I'll stay far away, but I'll keep my phone on me so I don't miss any calls. Tomorrow night, we can talk about James. Maybe Leslie can recommend a family court attorney who has dealt with same-sex couples like this," she said.

"You're right," I said with a sigh. "Promise you're not upset about tomorrow?"

"Of course not. I mean, I wish I could be with you, but I understand the situation. I'll do whatever you need."

"Thank you," I said, closing my eyes and allowing myself to fall asleep in her arms.

Thursday morning, I sent Andrea to ride with the girls to Dalton, as I needed to be to work earlier. My morning was going fine until about 9:30 AM when Nigel walked into my office with my coat and bag.

"What on earth are you doing?" I asked, snatching my coat and bag from him.

"Coming with you," he said.

"Oh, don't be absurd, Nigel, you're too busy."

"No. Emily cleared my schedule, which was easy considering half of my meetings were with you."

"But, Nige, how did you even—?" I began to ask, wondering if I actually did tell Nigel the details after all.

"Andy. She called me. She didn't want you to be alone. Mira, I know you don't need anyone with you, but I want to be there. I'm coming as your friend, okay?" he asked, softly placing his hand at my lower back as he led me into the elevator.

"Okay," I said, nodding and trying to hold back tears.

As it turned out, I was truly grateful to have a friend there to talk to while we waited. Leslie was busy on the phone, and Nigel and I were able to play our little what-not-to-wear game with the others waiting in the busy courthouse.

Our case was the last case called before lunch. The judge was a woman, and she looked familiar. I nodded as if we had met before—it must have been at one of the benefits. She was harsh on Stephen, almost too harsh when she scolded him for his drinking with young children under the same roof.

When the judge asked if I had anything to say, my response was "No, your honor," and with that she granted my divorce. I allowed myself a few minutes of enjoyment as I hugged and thanked Leslie and shared a quick hug and kiss on the cheek with Nigel.

"What!?" Stephen bellowed as we were exiting the courtroom. "You bring your new boy toy to court with you!?"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I looked over at Nigel.

"First," Nigel said, "I am nobody's_ toy_. Second," he said, gesturing dramatically, "my boyfriend would not appreciate that. Third, if you had been a decent husband worth keeping around, you'd know that I have been Miranda's best friend for over twenty years, and that I work with her at _Runway. _But I guess you were too drunk at those dinners and benefits to remember meeting me."

"Order!" The judge called as Stephen's lawyer held his wrist and kept him from lunging at Nigel.

"Good riddance!" Nigel said before storming out of the courtroom, myself and Leslie on his heels.

In the car, Nigel and I were laughing so hard we could hardly catch our breath. We stopped for lunch at Smith & Wollensky, where I quickly texted Andrea: "No more Stephen. I'm all yours, darling. See you tonight. xo"

"So you two are really that serious?" Nigel asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. "But it's funny. I don't think of us as being serious. It's just like she's my best friend, who I also happen to be ridiculously attracted to. It's…I don't know. I can't explain it."

"It's love," Nigel said with a sappy smile.

"So wait, do you really have a boyfriend?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I'm surprised it took you an hour to finally ask. Yes, nothing official, but we've been seeing each other for the past few weeks or so."

"You're not going to tell me more?" I asked in disbelief.

"Well, do you promise you won't say anything to Andy?" he said nervously.

"Uh, okay, I promise," I said. "Why is she involved?"

"Well, the guy I'm seeing, Doug—"

"…was one of her best friends," I said, finishing his sentence. I recalled her saying her friends stopped hanging around once she and Nate broke up. "When did you meet?"

"That's just it. About six months ago. Andy was meeting him for drinks after work and I happened to be walking out at the same time. He gave me his business card and told me to call if I was ever looking for a stock broker. It was a little too professional and I never really thought about him again, until a few weeks ago. He came up to me in a coffee shop and reintroduced himself."

"So, why can't we tell Andrea?" I asked.

"He says he isn't ready to talk to her. I don't think he knows she's gay—he certainly doesn't know she's in a relationship with you," Nigel said, "but this is not our place to interfere."

"I suppose," I said, "But this Doug—you like him? Is he good for you?"

"Yeah. I think so," Nigel said. "I mean, we're still getting to know each other, but it feels good."

"Well, I hope so. You deserve some happiness," I said, digging into my steak.

x o x o

We returned to the office around 2:00 PM. Roy would return in an hour to pick me up and drive me and the girls home. "Emily, please arrange to have dinner delivered to the townhouse for four tonight at six—from that place with the pasta the girls like."

Emily nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard. "Miranda, here are the keys back to the apartment. It has been painted, cleaned, and the furniture was delivered this afternoon. I unwrapped and arranged it as best I could, but I'm not sure where you wanted…"

"Did the linens come in?" I asked, suddenly having an idea.

"Yes, I put them on the bed and the other towels in the bathroom."

"Thank you, Emily. That's all," I said.

Everything was falling into place. I would spend some time working with the girls, then we would eat dinner with Andrea, and then I would give Andrea the keys to her new place.

I sifted through a few emails, anxiously waiting for Roy to pick me up. When I saw my Blackberry vibrating on the desk, I was surprised to find Roy calling. I picked up the phone and stood to face the window, allowing me a tiny bit of privacy with the call.

"Hello, Roy?"

"Miranda, I'm sorry to bother you, but the girls weren't at school."

"What do you mean?" I asked as my heart began pounding. "Where are they?"

"They didn't come out with the rest of their peers, so I went inside and inquired with the main office," he said quickly. "The woman told me their father signed them out twenty minutes before the last bell. Should I pick them up there?"

"No. That's all." I said, only slightly relieved that they were with their father instead of some stranger. As far as I knew the girls did not have any appointments coming up, but then again, there was the possibility James had scheduled a check-up weeks ago.

Why I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, I didn't know. Maybe because it was the better alternative, I thought as I dialed his number. After several rings, he finally answered.

"Miranda, I was expecting your call," he answered.

"James, Dalton tells me you signed the girls out early? Is everything okay?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"Yes, they're fine."

"Well, can I speak to them? When are you bringing them home?"

"They're busy right now."

"James, when should I expect them home—or would you like me to pick them up?" I asked. His short answers were seriously trying what little patience I had left.

"They're not going _home_ with you, Miranda. Not while you're still on this _lesbian thing_," he said, whispering the last part as if it were too taboo to say aloud.

"Damnit, James!" I cried feeling a sense of panic wash over me. "You have no right to do this! I have full custody!"

"Not for long. I'm having my lawyer draw up some papers now. Currently, you are—wait, how did he say it? Oh, yes, you are a 'threat to the girls' emotional well-being and it is in their best interest to stay here.'"

"You kidnapped them!" I cried, banging my hand against the wall. "Put them on the phone _NOW_ or I'm calling the police! I mean it!" I cried.

I heard muffled voices on the other end of the line; he was clearly covering the mouthpiece while he told them something.

"Damnit, James! I want to talk to the girls!"

"Okay, okay. You're on speaker now," he said.

"Mom?"

"Oh baby, Cassidy, sweetheart I love you and miss you so much. Is your sister there?"

"Yeah. Hi, Mom. We miss you too. Are you coming to pick us up here?"

"I will be there in a heartbeat if your dad lets me," I said, "but right now I just want to know that you girls are safe. Did your dad hurt you at all?"

"Fuck you, Miranda," he said, picking up the receiver. "You and the garbage you're filling their minds with!"

"Please watch your language in front of them! And is it so wrong to be concerned for my children's welfare when they are practically abducted from school?!" I spat.

In the background, I heard Cassidy crying, and James was whispering something, trying to get her to stop. Paralyzing fear filled my veins as I worried for my daughters' safety.

I took a deep breath. "Let me talk to Cass," I said.

"Mom?"

"Baby, I'm here. What's wrong?"

"Dad threw the scarf away," she said between tears.

"What? What scarf?" I asked.

"The new white one you gave me the other day. I had it tied to my backpack and he ripped it off!" she cried.

"Baby, it's okay. I can get you another one. I love you, my darling. I'll drop one off right now," I said.

"NO," James interrupted. "You are not coming here. Miranda, I'm filing an order of protection to keep you away from them," he said, quietly so the girls wouldn't hear. "If it's up to me, you'll never see these girls again!"

"But that's not what they want—" I started saying as tears flowed down my face, only to realize that the line was dead.

I was beyond sobbing, my body shaking violently as I took in giant gulps of air. I slowly slid down the wall…and then everything went black.

When I woke, Nigel was cradling my head in his lap. "Mira!" he cried, kissing me as he helped me to sit up. "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

As soon as I saw my Blackberry on the floor, I remembered everything and began crying into his arms. "He took my babies, Nigel. He took them away from me!"

"Shh, shh, we'll get them back," he said, trying to reassure me. "Do you want to call the police?"

"No, I don't want that. James won't hurt them, will he? Oh god," I cried even harder.

"Emily," Nigel said, "have your friend at the NYPD keep watch on the house to make sure he doesn't take them anywhere. And I thought you said she was on her way?!"

Judging by the sound of her voice, Emily was standing right next to Nigel. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked at the moment, so I kept my head buried in his shoulder, willing my audience to disappear.

"She is," Emily said. "There was an accident on Fifth blocking all lanes. She texted that she was getting out of the taxi and would run here. I can only imagine what she'll look like when she gets here."

"Have security hold an elevator for her," Nigel said. Emily quickly left the room.

"Who?" I asked. My body was still shaking uncontrollably, so I tried to curl up tightly against Nigel's body. "I'm c-c-cold," I said.

"Come here," Nigel said, lifting me to my feet and walking me to the couch. I curled up against the pillows as he draped the wool/cashmere blend throw over my body.

It felt much warmer, but I was still shaking and I couldn't seem to stop the tears from falling. _What was going on_?

"Miranda!" she called from the outer office, and I soon felt her arms around me. _My Andrea_, I thought as tears continued to stream down my cheeks.

"Em, go find some Xanax or Valium or Ativan or something. Someone here has got to have one," Andrea said. "It's okay, Miranda," she whispered, "just try to relax. It's going to be okay," she reassured. Her mere presence was comfort enough, and I could feel my body stop shaking.

We sat like that on the couch for several minutes, Andrea's body draped over mine as she whispered reassurances into my ear. Finally, Emily ran in with a glass of water and two small blue pills. "Take this," Andrea said, handing me the pills and holding the water up to my lips.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Xanax," Emily said.

"Both?" I asked. It had been years since I'd taken anti-anxiety medication.

"Yes," Andrea said, "it's a small dosage."

Once I swallowed the pills, Andrea stood to hand the glass back to Emily, and I shrieked at the loss of contact. "Hey, hey, I'm right here," she said, immediately returning to my side. "Nigel, please shut the door for a minute," she said, adjusting her position on the couch.

"Miranda, look at me," she said firmly. I tried to focus on her eyes. I felt her hands against my cheek. "Take a deep breath with me," she said. "In…and out. Let's do it again. In…and out."

After several minutes, I closed my eyes and felt my breathing return to normal as her hand brushed my cheek.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I slowly shook my head. "No. I'm scared," I said. "I want my girls back."

"I know you do," she said, hugging me tightly. "But you have to be strong for them, okay? I'm scared, too, but we can do this together," she said.

"Don't you understand? That's why he took them—because we're together. He's going to make me choose between you and them," I cried, burying my face in her neck.

"I know you will choose your daughters over me, but that's part of what I love most about you. Please don't worry about me. We will figure it out."

I quietly nodded and pushed myself up. My eyes hurt from crying, and I could only imagine what I looked like. "I need to clean up," I said.

"No," she said, picking up the argan oil cleanser Emily had brought to the side table earlier. "Let me."

I nodded and Andrea gently removed my makeup, then added a lightweight tinted moisturizer. "I love you," she said, softly kissing my lips before adding a light pink gloss. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes," I said, allowing her to help me balance while I stepped back into my heels and put on my oversized, dark sunglasses.

The ride back to the townhouse seemed to take ages, but that was probably because neither of us spoke. Halfway through the ride, I reached over and squeezed Andrea's hand. I couldn't bear to look in her eyes and see the hurt. That she knew I would choose my daughters over anything was painful but true. In a strange way, it was reassuring to know she, too, was scared.

When we approached the townhouse, Roy got out to open the door for me.

"Are they all here because of the divorce?" Andrea asked, gazing out at the twenty or thirty cameramen and reporters gathered around the steps to the town house.

"I guess so," I said. Andrea quickly darted out the other door and ran up to the front door, clearing a path and reminding the reporters that my steps were private property and they would be prosecuted for trespassing.

Andrea unlocked the door as Roy ushered me up the stairs, but then I felt someone tug on my elbow. I stopped and turned, meeting eyes with an older woman, perhaps older than I was. She had ashy blonde hair with grey roots, and she was wearing an oversized, wrinkled blouse with masculine-looking khakis and a pair of Birkenstock sandals.

"Miranda, would you like to make a statement on your latest divorce? Is there another Mr. Priestly in waiting?" she asked, sticking her recording device in my direction.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Marjorie. I'm with _The Post_," she said.

"Marjorie, let me tell you something. There is nothing more important to me than my eleven-year-old daughters, daughters whom I have custody of. Their father is trying to keep them from me and won't let me see them, and getting them back is my number one priority. And you are concerned with my divorce? While your priorities obviously differ, please stay out of my way as I attend to mine." I said, storming up the stairs.

I was doing everything I could to keep it together until the door was closed safely behind me. I felt my chest tightening and was beyond grateful when I felt a strong arm around me, whisking me towards the staircase. My legs were shaking.

"I—I need to sit," I said, grabbing the rail and collapsing onto the stair.

"I'm going to get you a glass of water," Andrea said, rushing off to the kitchen.

I kicked off my heels and shrugged off my embroidered blazer as I tried to take a deep breath. Andrea returned and handed me the glass of water, gently tracing circles on my back.

"Let's go upstairs," she said. "You'll feel better once you can lay down and get some rest."

I took a deep breath and nodded as she helped me up to the second floor, then onto my bed. I unbuttoned and kicked off my trousers.

"Lay with me?" I asked. She quickly stepped out of her heels and laid next to me on the bed. "Andrea, what am I going to do?" I asked, curling up against her and laying my head on her shoulder.

"We'll figure it out," she said, pulling me closer. "Just get some rest, and we'll have a plan ready when you wake up. I do need to go back to the office, but I'll be home no later than 8 PM." I nodded and drifted off to sleep with her hand gently squeezing my own.

I woke about two hours later, and felt very groggy. My head was heavy, my hair was matted, and I had definitely been drooling on the pillowcase. _Didn't I fall asleep on Andrea?_ I wondered. Sitting up, I saw a note on my dresser under a bottle of water: _Went back to the office to finish up—will be home by 8. Rest up and call if you need anything. Love you. xo A_

I smiled, climbing out of bed and making my way to the bathroom. It was only six o'clock, so I changed out of my blouse and threw on one of Andrea's t-shirts before returning to bed, flipping over my pillow and pulling the comforter tightly around me.

On the other side of town, Andrea stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver, taking a deep breath as she headed up the stairs to James' home. After several moments, James answered the door. "What do you want?"

"First, here are a few things the girls left at the townhouse—I know they'll need their chargers for their gadgets," she said, handing a small shopping bag to him.

"Okay, I'll give this to them," he said as he took the bag. "Good night."

"Wait!" Andrea said, pressing her hand against the door in an attempt to keep him from closing it completely. "Can we speak—privately—for two minutes? It's about the girls."

James studied her features for several minutes, but seeing no deception, he set the small bag down inside and joined Andrea on the porch, walking over to the top step and having a seat. "Look, I've made my decision clear to Miranda. I don't really care what you have to say," he said, staring out into traffic.

"I know," Andrea said, taking a seat on the step next to him. "And I could sit here and try to tell you how good I am for Miranda, or how I would do anything to keep your girls safe…but I won't."

James looked up from the pavement and met Andrea's eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Just answer one question," she said quietly. When James nodded, she proceeded. "If I wasn't in the picture, that is, if Miranda was single, would you still keep Caroline and Cassidy from their mother?"

"No," James said, pausing for a moment before he continued speaking. "No, I do not think it would be an issue."

Andrea took a deep breath. "Okay, that's all I needed to know," she said, standing up. "If I promise to be gone first thing tomorrow morning, will you call her and work out a living arrangement?"

"Yes," James said, nodding slowly. He was dumbstruck. "So that's it? I mean, just like that you'll leave?"

"Yes," Andrea said, blinking slowly. "I love Miranda, but I love your daughters, too and I know what an important part of her life they are. I couldn't live with myself if she had to choose between them and me." I paused for a second. "It's already breaking her heart. The girls deserve their mother's love and affection."

"Wait," James said, gently reaching for Andrea's wrist as she began walking down the stairs. "Is she okay?"

"She will be as soon as she hears from you. Please don't tell her I came here."

"B—bu—but I don't understand," he said, running his hand through his hair. "What should I tell her?"

"Tell her you had a change of heart, I don't care. I doubt she'll look into too much when she hears what you've decided."

"And you're just going to disappear?"

"I will leave her a note, telling her it was too much for me, that I wasn't ready, something like that. She'll get over me. If I stayed, she would never recover from losing those two young ladies in there," Andrea said, pointing at the front door.

"Thank you, James," she said, walking away down the street.

James shook his head again and took a deep breath, meeting two young red-heads in the foyer who were anxiously digging through the items in the shopping bag.

"Did Mom bring this?" Cassidy asked, clutching the white scarf tightly behind her back.

"No, her assistant dropped it off," James said. "Why don't you take everything up to your room and get cleaned up for dinner, okay?"

They nodded and ran upstairs. James sat down as he tried to wrap his mind around the conversation with Andrea just minutes ago.

It was still light outside, and just before seven o'clock. Andrea hurried up the stairs to her office at _The Mirror_ and shut the door behind her. One of the perks of working in a newsroom was that there were people working 24/7. One of the downsides was you were never ever alone in the office. Struggling to keep her composure, she drafted a letter to Miranda, then grabbed her laptop and headed back to the townhouse.

TBD… last chapter coming up soon :)


	29. Part 5 Chapter 5 (The End)

Chapter 5, Part 5 (aka Ch 29/29)

I woke to the sounds of rustling clothes on the other side of my bedroom. "Andrea?" I called. It was dark in the room, and my head was still foggy.

"Shh, go back to sleep—I'm just sorting my clothes," she said, walking over and kneeling next to the bed. I felt her soft fingers stroking my cheek and smiled, allowing myself to fall back asleep, hoping she would replace the nightmare that had been playing on repeat all afternoon.

Little did I know that while I slept, Andrea packed her suitcase and tote and carried them downstairs, leaving only a clean set of clothes to wear the following morning.

I woke again a while later and felt the empty space in the bed next to me. "Andrea?" There was no response, so I reached over and checked the time on my phone: 11:38 PM. Seeing that I had one voicemail from James, I quickly checked it.

_Hi Miranda, it's me. Um, listen. Things got out of control earlier. I think we should talk. The girl are fine—sleeping now—but please call me when you get this. I want to take back some of the things I said. And…discuss a joint living arrangement for our daughters. Uhm, yeah. So, call me back when you get this._

I bit my lower lip as I replayed the message. _Taking back what he said? A joint living arrangement? _I smiled. There was hope. Slowly, I got out of bed and went in search of Andrea. Seeing light seeping out from under the door to the study, I knocked gently before pushing it open, finding Andrea sitting on the couch with her laptop.

"Are you coming to bed, darling?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

She looked up from her screen. I could feel her eyes devouring me. The t-shirt was barely long enough to cover everything, and I was sure she realized I was not wearing any underwear. _Now she knows what I felt like when she had that bodystocking on the other day_. 

"Andrea?" I asked again, jolting her from her thoughts.

"Sure," she said with a half-smile, closing the lid of her laptop. "I was just trying to catch up on some things from earlier. Are you feeling better?"

"Much," I said, unable to hide my smile. "James left me a message—he wants to talk about joint living arrangement for the girls. I think I'll call him back now—he's usually up late."

"Wow," Andrea said, gathering up her things and stacking them neatly on the coffee table. "Why don't you wait until morning to call him back?"

"He seemed anxious to talk to me—I really don't want to delay this," I said.

"You've had a long day," she said. "You're better off talking tomorrow morning when you have a clear head."

Come to think of it, I still felt a little groggy. "Okay," I said, nodding as we both headed back to the bedroom. I sent a quick text to James explaining that I would call him first thing in the morning, then powered off my Blackberry so as not to be disturbed. I turned back to Andrea, curling up against her slender body. "Are things going okay at work? You seem on edge," I asked her.

"Yeah, I just want to make a good impression, you know. My first edition is officially on Sunday, so I'm just a little nervous," she said.

"I'm sure it will be great. I can see how hard you've been working," I said. "I'm sorry if I've gotten in the way of your work," I added, thinking to how she rushed to my side earlier that day.

"Don't worry about it. Look, I have to be in early tomorrow because a few sections of the Sunday paper are printed in advance, at 7 AM on Friday. Then the movers are moving the boxes out of my old place tomorrow afternoon. I just want to hold you tonight and get some sleep if that's okay."

"Okay," I said, softly kissing her shoulder and wrapping my arm around her waist, "good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Miranda."

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed and was shocked to see I had slept past eight. I quickly reached for my Blackberry to tell Emily I would be running late, and I was shocked to see nearly fifteen missed calls from James, in addition to a note from Emily that she was rescheduling my morning.

Quickly checking my voicemail, the only words James left was "Call me back." Without hesitation I dialed his number, only to be sent to voicemail.

I spent the next hour getting ready, keeping my phone nearby in case he returned my call. Once dressed, I headed down to make myself some coffee and toast, again dialing James' number.

"Miranda, thank god."

"James, what's wrong? Are Care and Cass okay?" I asked, panicked.

"Yes, yes, they're fine. They're at school now. Miranda, I need to talk to you."

"In case you've forgotten, I have a job to attend to. I can't keep dropping everything for you and your whims. As long as the girls are safe and they don't need anything, can't we have this conversation this evening? Maybe we can meet somewhere neutral for dinner?"

James sighed. "Fine. But don't say I didn't try," he murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, let's try for six," he said. "You can come over, I'll have Cara make something."

"Okay, tell the girls I'm looking forward to seeing them," I said. I still wasn't ready to trust James one hundred percent.

"Uh, one more thing…did you talk to Andrea this morning?"

"No," I said, twisting my lips. "And what business is that of yours?"

"Nothing. You're right, it's not. I'll see you tonight," he said, ending the call.

_Strange man, _I thought as I finished my coffee. I stood and peeked out the front window. Seeing Roy waiting for me, I quickly cleaned up the kitchen then went to gather my things, tucking the Book and whatever papers Emily left back into my bag, knowing I would have a lot to catch up on this morning.

Once in the backseat of the town car, I sent a quick text message to Andrea: "Having dinner with James and the girls tonight. Hope your day's going well. See you later. xo M" Without a second thought, I tossed my phone back into my bag.

The rest of the morning went quite well, considering the past few weeks. I know Emily was flustered to see me in earlier than she expected, but I explained to her that I did not want to be disturbed until after lunch, so hopefully that set her at ease. I was surprisingly productive that morning.

Seeing it was 11:30 AM, I pulled out my phone, knowing this was when Andrea took her lunch break. I dialed her number, and was surprised when it went straight to a generic voicemail greeting. Opening up my messages, I saw that the text I sent her earlier was marked "undelivered."

I quickly sent her an email reiterating my dinner plans. Then, I instructed Emily to look into the plan for the phone and to make sure it was up to date or whatever because it appeared that it wasn't getting a signal today.

Sighing, and not wanting to deal with that incompetent Lizzy, I scrolled through a few emails from earlier in the week and found Andrea's work cell phone number in her email signature.

Dialing the number, I was again directed to Andrea's voicemail, where I left a message: "Darling, I'm starting to get worried—I haven't heard from you. I know you're busy today, but I just wanted to say hi. I love you."

I looked over at the clock—I had just over an hour before my first meeting of the day. I wasn't really hungry, so I put my glasses back on and went through the loose papers that were stacked with the Book.

The first was a memo from Irv to all of Elias-Clarke staff, asking that we be mindful of energy consumption and try to keep unnecessary lighting and electrical "off" when not in use. The second was a copy of the period four expense report, with the _Runway _line circled in red. It didn't matter to him that _Runway _was responsible for ninety-percent of the company's revenue…no, we were still only allowed the same share of expenses as _Auto Universe_. Seriously, I wondered if this man had failed basic math in grade school.

I almost threw away the next sheet, until I recognized Andrea's handwriting. Lifting it up, I leaned back in my chair to read it.

_Dear Miranda,  
By now you've probably realized that I've moved out of the townhouse. I'm not taking your calls, and, well, I'm not coming back. I know this is cowardly, but I didn't want to give you the opportunity to use that icy glare on me again like you did when I was your assistant. Miranda, we're through. I'm tired of being mixed up in your divorces and custody battles, not to mention having to worry about the press seeing us if we're ever in public. I'm tired of the fancy food and expensive clothes. I'm tired of private booths and using your name to get what I want. I don't need that anymore.  
I need someone younger, someone who doesn't try to control me, someone who isn't so needy and clingy. I need someone who puts me first. Unfortunately, you were none of that. I thought for a split second that you could change—I really did. When I first recognized your attraction towards me, I thought we could give it a try. So we did, and honestly, I felt nothing. I knew it would have been a mistake to leave you when I would be unemployed and homeless, so I put up with it until my situation was stable. And now, I need to get on with my life.  
You're not a bad person, just not good for me. I hope you understand and that you find someone else to give you what you need. I know any number of men and women who would jump at the chance. I just couldn't bring myself to lie to you any longer. I'm sorry._

Andy

P.S. The rent and security deposit that we decided upon for the apartment will be deposited into your account in advance on the first of each month. Contact my broker at 213-123-4567 if you have any questions. 

"This—this, it can't be," I said aloud as my eyes scanned the words on the page over and over. "No—no—no, it's just not true," I said as tears streamed down my eyes. "This is a cruel joke," I cried, except I knew deep down it wasn't.

Suddenly, everything fell into place. The cell phone. Leaving early this morning. Her anxiety last night. _How long had she been planning this,_ I wondered.

Once my anger began to kick in, I picked up my phone and called her again, leaving several angry messages, followed by a rather humiliating apologetic one as I sobbed into the receiver and begged her to take me back, promising I would change.

Knowing she would not return my calls, I opened the bottom drawer of my file cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whisky. I kept this in the office for rare occasions, and this was certainly rare, indeed.

Was it true? Did she really feel nothing? Was she lying to me—just 'putting up with' me? I knew I needed to talk to someone, but I feared that Nigel would lecture me with this "I told you so" conversation I was nowhere near ready to have.

Throwing back several glasses—_was I on four or five by now?_—I sat facing the window, the letter resting on my lap. It was already crumpled, and tears blurred the ink in one section. The only thing I felt right now was the need to have Andrea's arms around me. Maybe if I drank enough, I wouldn't feel anything.

"Miranda?" Emily called, startling me from my thoughts. I slowly opened my eyes. I was holding the letter in one hand and an empty glass in the other. "Miranda," Emily continued, opening my office door and walking up to my desk, "Your one o'clock—oh!" she gasped, running out of the room.

I can only imagine what I looked like, eyeliner and mascara running down my face and dripping onto my white blouse, eyes glazed over and red-rimmed with tears.

"Andrea won't take your call!" I called after Emily. I heard her hang the phone up and quietly walk back to the doorway of my office. "She will not answer your call."

"What are you talking about, Miranda?" she asked. "I can call Roy to take you home if you wish."

I shrugged. Several minutes later, Emily was at my desk, packing some things up. "Here," I said, handing her the letter to add to the items in my bag. "Go on, you can read it," I said, pouring the last drops of whisky from the bottle.

Emily glanced at the letter, long enough to get the idea. "No, Miranda, I can't. This is private. Roy is waiting downstairs. Do you need anything else?"

I finished the drink in my hand and reached for her hand to help me up from the chair. For being as thin as she was, I was surprised at her strength as she pulled me to my feet. She held out my bag, which I threw over my shoulder before I marched out and towards the elevators, careful to keep from swaying.

Roy met me at the elevators, and I gratefully leaned on him as he ushered me into the car. Without saying a word, he drove me to the townhouse and helped me over to the couch in the den. I could see he wanted to stay, but I shooed him out. I needed to be alone.

Why does it always seem like when things are going well and I'm actually _happy_ for once, my world comes crashing down on me?

I don't know how much time had passed, but it was now dark outside and someone was banging on my front door. I crawled off the couch and steadied myself, feeling a wave of nausea coming over me. I stumbled into the bathroom and emptied the liquid contents of my stomach into the toilet before rinsing out my mouth. I tried to remove the makeup stains on my cheeks with a hand towel before turning my attention back to the insistent banging on the door.

"Miranda! I know you're home! Open the god damn door!" James bellowed.

"Okay!" I shouted back, making my way over to the door to let him in.

"Miranda, I—Jesus, what happened to you?" he asked.

"Yes, it's nice…to see you…too," I said, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"How much have you had to drink?"

I shrugged. "I don't know…two? three?" I said, gesturing with my hand. Unfortunately, the slight movement caused me to lose my balance and topple into the wall. "I'm fine, really," I protested as James picked me up and carried me upstairs.

"You need to take a shower and sober up," he said, gently standing me up in the middle of my bathroom. "And then I need to talk to you," he said. "Now, I'm just going to help you with the buttons, but then I'll wait outside," he added, quickly unbuttoning my blouse and undoing the top clasp on my skirt before turning the shower on and stepping out.

I peeled my blouse off and unzipped my skirt, letting the clothes fall to a pile in the center of the floor. Carefully balancing on the towel bar, I slid my underwear down and stepped out one leg at a time. After that, I unclasped my bra and walked into the shower.

I hissed as the cold water splashed against my skin, sending goosebumps down my arms and making my nipples pebble. Switching on the hot water, I quickly washed my body, then turned the water off. I couldn't say that I felt better after the shower, though, since it had only sobered me up enough to remember Andrea and the harsh words she wrote.

I dried myself off with a towel and wrapped a robe around my body before taking a seat at the small stool under my vanity to remove my makeup. Tears crept into my eyes as I began wiping the mascara stains away with my argan oil cleanser, bringing memories of Andrea too close to the surface.

James knocked gently on the door before pushing it open. For a minute, I forgot he was even here. "I grabbed something for you to throw on—is this okay?" he asked, awkwardly handing me a stack of clothes.

"It's fine, give me a minute," I said, taking the clothes from him. He shut the door again and I hung my robe on the hook, stepping into the underwear and Lululemon yoga pants he selected, along with a built-in-bra tank and a zip-up cotton/lycra blend jacket.

Opening the door, I walked over to the bed and sat next to him. "Okay, let's talk," I said.

"Miranda, we were worried about you. I told the girls you were looking forward to seeing them at dinner, but you never showed up. I didn't want to alarm them, so I pretended like I had just received a text from you that something came up, but I was worried," he said, resting his hand on mine on the bed.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have stood the girls or you up like that," I said. "It's just—" I somehow couldn't bring myself to tell him what had me so upset. Although, it was slightly suspicious why he wasn't asking—unless he felt subject to Emily's rules, too.

"Miranda, I'm an idiot. I tried to get in touch with you last night and then again this morning to tell you what was going on, but it just pissed me off that you were blowing this off for work," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. Maybe I wasn't as sober as I thought. I couldn't follow his train of thought.

"Andrea," he said. "I'm presuming you read her letter sometime between talking to me this morning and missing dinner?"

I gasped. "Wh—what do you know about the letter?"

"Miranda, she came to talk to me last night. You can't let her go. She's one of the best things that happened to you. The girls look up to her, and she would do anything for you—in fact, that's what she did."

"What do you know about this letter?" I asked again, not quite following his train of thought. "And I thought you said she was a _whore _and a _golddigger_?" I spat.

"Look. I'm sorry. Last night she asked me if I would let you see the girls if she wasn't in the picture. I said yes. I had no idea what she was going to do or how it would affect you."

"So...you planned this with her?"

"No, it wasn't like that. Miranda, don't you see? She sacrificed her own happiness so you could be with the girls. She left so you wouldn't have to choose. I was a fool to think that would solve everything. But even more so, I now see what a good person she is, how she loves you and the girls. She's a good influence, Miranda, and you can't let her go."

"I don't seem to have a choice."

"Yes, come on, we're going to talk to her."

"What? No. I can't. She doesn't want to see me," I said. Suddenly, I felt afraid to face her. "Plus, we, uh need to talk about a custody arrangement."

"Can we can talk in the car?" James asked. "I feel awful and really want you two to straighten this out. I don't want to explain to the girls why Andy doesn't come around anymore."

"I don't think she'll take me back," I said as James stood and helped me to my feet. "She said I'm too old and controlling and clingy—and she's right," I cried. James draped his arm over my shoulders.

"Please trust me, Miranda," he said. "I need to fix this."

I nodded and followed him out to the car. "So, what does this joint custody entail?" I asked, pulling my knees to my chest in the passenger seat of his car.

"Well, I realized that I can't keep them from you. I may not agree with all of your personal decisions, but the girls need a mom. They're going to be getting their periods and going to dances with boys and all that stuff," he said. "They need you. And two moms are even better than one."

A tear slipped from my eye. "Thank you for realizing that," I said. "I also know they love you, too, and I'd never want to keep you out of their life."

"So, what I was thinking," James said, careful to keep his eyes on the road, "was that we could have our custody arrangement re-drawn so it's more like 70/30. For the most part, the girls could live with you, but I could have them every other weekend and twice every two weeks, which breaks down to two days per week."

I nodded, doing the math in my head. So for every fourteen days, James would have them one weekend plus two days, so a total of four days, which was more like 72/28, but who was counting. "I think that could work," I said. "Then you could take them for a long weekend if you wanted, and we could still be flexible around our work schedules and travel commitments."

"Exactly," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "You don't mind that I want this in writing?"

"No. I'll want my lawyer to look it over before I sign, but I agree that our official custody agreement should include us both." After several minutes of silence, we came to a red light. "So what's the catch?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, there's no catch."

"I'm supposed to believe that overnight you just changed your mind? One day you're threatening an order of protection and the next you're so agreeable?"

"Really," he said. "I told you, after talking to Andrea last night, I just, I don't know, had a realization. I know I would regret it if I kept them from you. If it's okay, I'll bring them over Sunday night with their things.

I nodded. If there was more to it, I wasn't sure I was ready to hear it right now.

When we arrived at Andrea's, I didn't even bother asking how he knew her address. My stomach turned when I heard her voice answer the intercom.

"Andy, it's James."

"You shouldn't be here," she said cautiously. "It's late—"

"I need to talk to you—it's about Miranda."

"Oh god is she okay?"

"Can I come up?" he asked.

"Eighth floor, turn left," she replied, followed by a buzzer indicating we could enter.

"I can't do this, James," I said, struggling to take a deep breath in the elevator. "I—I can't face her."

"Yes you can," James said, tugging me out of the elevator with him.

Although I wanted nothing more than to be back in her arms, this felt like torture—like it was my punishment to be dragged to face the one who scorned me.

As we approached her door, she quickly opened it. "Miranda!" she gasped.

I moved behind James and tried to pull my arm free but he was gripping my wrist too tightly. I couldn't breathe. I needed to run—to leave and walk away before she hurt me any more. I hardly noticed that James had walked me inside until he eased me onto the couch.

"Andy," James said quietly, "I know I've exchanged some unkind words regarding you, but what you did yesterday changed my mind entirely. You are a good influence on Miranda and my daughters, and though I don't understand how or why you love my ex-wife, it's quite clear that you do. Miranda needs you as much as she needs the girls, and I was a fool to think it could be one or the other."

"Okay…" Andrea said cautiously, "So what do you want from me?"

"Explain to her that you didn't mean what you wrote in the letter. Explain that you were just doing this so she could be with the girls. Take her back."

My eyes were tightly shut as I buried my head in my lap. This was utterly humiliating, and were I stronger, I would have run away. "Will you please stop talking about me as if I'm not here?" I said.

"Give us a minute?" Andrea asked James. He got up and stood in the doorway, no doubt preventing my escape. "Miranda, what he said is true," she explained, sitting next to me.

"Writing that letter to you was the hardest thing that I have ever done. Saying goodbye to you, knowing that last night was the last time I could hold you in my arms…I was a mess all day today. I wanted to talk to you so badly, but of course, you were the one I could no longer talk to."

She picked up my hands and held them until I looked up at her. "Please forgive me. I was only trying to do what was best for the girls. I am sorry I've hurt you so much," she said. Tears began to stream down her cheeks but she didn't bother to wipe them away. "I love you, Miranda."

"So…you don't think I'm too old or too clingy? You're not just using me?" I asked. Part of me still needed the reassurance since her words cut so deeply into my insecurities.

"No, none of it was true. I just knew that would be the only thing you would believe," she said. "Okay?"

"Okay what?"

"Okay, do you forgive me? Will you stay here tonight?"

Looking up at her, I was so flooded with emotion I was speechless. Nodding, I reached up and wrapped my arms around her, burying my head against her neck.

James cleared his throat from the other side of the room. "If you two are okay, I'm just going to head home."

"Yes, thank you," I said, standing from the couch. "Tell the girls I'm sorry about tonight and will see them Sunday."

"Okay, see you," he said as he stepped out the door.

Andrea quietly stood behind me and slipped her hands around my waist. "You know, I even love you when you've had too much to drink," she said. "Let me get you a glass of water and some aspirin," she added.

I took the offered aspirin, but knew I would still be feeling the effects well into tomorrow.

"How about something to eat?" she asked. "I don't have much, but there's leftover pizza in the fridge, or I can run to the cafe around the corner and get some soup or something?"

"Andrea, I'm really not hungry," I protested.

"I'm sure you haven't eaten all day, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Pizza is fine. Just one piece."

As we sat a the barstools and ate cold pizza using paper towels as napkins, I took a minute to look around the place. Emily really did a great job arranging the furniture, and the pale blue paint with one cobalt blue accent wall was quite striking. I could see that the bedroom looked to be a soft lavender and the bathroom was turquoise.

"I wish—"

"How much—" we both began to speak at once.

"Go ahead," I said.

"How much whisky did you drink?" she asked.

"I didn't keep track. But I know I finished the bottle in my office," I said.

"The Maker's in the bottom drawer of the cabinet?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, puzzled how she knew about my secret hiding place.

"What were you going to say?" she asked.

"That I wish I could have helped you move," I said, setting down my half-eaten piece of pizza. "Andrea, I'm so sorry about all of this. I wish you never had to get involved. The divorce, the custody, the press..."

"Hey, don't say that," Andrea said, softly cupping my cheek. "I'm not going anywhere now," she said, kissing my cheek. "I _want_ to be here with you," she added before pressing her lips to mine.

I moaned into her lips, all the stress from the past thirty-six hours melting away as she climbed off the barstool and stood between my legs. I quickly forgot about the pizza and wrapped my legs around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Oh, Andrea, I love you so much, darling," I whispered as she pushed my jacket off my shoulders, trailing kisses down my collarbone. I felt my muscles clenching as she nipped and sucked at my skin. I had no doubt my panties were soaked through. "Oh god, I need you," I cried.

I felt her slowly pull away, the loss of her body heat sending a chill down my spine. "Andrea?"

"Come to bed," she said, offering a hand to help me off the stool. I took it and followed her into the bedroom. "I just want to hold you tonight, if that's okay?"

I froze and pushed her away. "That's what you said last night, and then you left with no intention of coming back." I could feel the panic rising within me as I raced through the memories of the past few days.

"Whoa, whoa, relax," she said, "I'm not leaving. I just—I don't know. I can't explain it. I just want to feel you, listen to you breathe, you know," she said. "Can I?" she asked, tugging at the strap on my camisole.

I nodded, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath as she gently removed my clothes before attending to her own. "Come on," she said, lifting the duvet for me to climb in. She followed after me, crawling over me to get to her side. After repositioning, I laid my head on her shoulder.

"This does feel good," I said. My body was draped across hers, my left foot twisted against her right ankle. I could feel my body moving with the rise and fall of her chest. "Good night, Andrea," I whispered, drifting off to sleep.

It must have been several hours later when I woke from a dream with a jump, also startling Andrea beneath me. "I'm—I'm sorry," I said.

"Hey, it's okay," Andrea whispered, running her hands soothingly up and down my back. "You're shaking—what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," I said. "Go back to sleep."

"Please talk to me," Andrea said. "Was it a dream?"

"More like a nightmare. I keep waking up and you're not there," I said.

Andrea pulled away and scooted lower in the bed so I was at eye-level. "Miranda, I am so, so sorry for hurting you. I wish there was something I could to to reassure you, to make everything go away…"

"I know you are, darling, and I'm not upset at you, really. I just—I'm still afraid. I can't lose you—not again. I won't survive it," I said.

She reached up and took my face in her hands, kissing me firmly on the lips. "You won't," she said. "I promise you. Now, what can I do to make you feel better?" she asked.

"Fuck me," I said. I could see Andrea was shocked at the words I just uttered. "I'm serious, Andrea. Remember last week, you told me to let you know the next time I was letting things build up and needed a release?"

Andrea slowly nodded.

"Honey, I need a release soon or I'm going to explode. Please?" I practically begged.

"Okay, just a minute," she said, crawling out of bed and digging for something in her suitcase.

"Where did you go?" I said, sighing. _Maybe it was time I learned to masturbate,_ I thought.

"Sorry. Back," she said, climbing back into bed. "I, uh, picked something up after we had this conversation last week—about the Four Seasons and all. Can we try it?"

My eyes went wide as I examined the huge flesh-colored dildo she held. I felt my muscles clenching in anticipation. _That better be for me, _I thought.

"So, it's got this harness thing," she said, kneeling next to me as she fumbled to get the dildo through the ring. "I just don't really know how it's supposed to go on," she said, frowning as she held it up.

"Here," I said, securing the straps around her legs and adjusting the belt to fit her waist comfortably. "Ohhh god," I moaned, seeing her on her knees with this glorious appendage at her core.

"So, is this a good look?" she asked with a grin, thrusting her hips softly in my direction.

Without another word, I lunged forward and took her hips in my hands, licking and sucking on the dildo, knowing each movement created friction against her clit. I rose to my knees and pulled her close, the dildo resting against my lower abdomen.

"Fuck me, Andrea," I repeated, watching her eyes darken with desire before I turned around and pressed my hands into the mattress. I felt the tip teasing my dripping my folds, and the anticipation was nearly too much to bear. "Please!" I cried impatiently.

I relaxed as I felt her hands at my hips as she carefully lined the appendage up with my folds, slowly entering, allowing my walls sufficient time to expand to accommodate the object's girth.

"Ohh—ho-ho-hooo," I howled as I felt its tip poking against my cervix.

"Are you okay?" she asked, gently stroking her hand in circles on my back.

"Mm-hmm. Are you in all the way?" I asked. I was holding my breath, waiting for her to move.

"Yes, is that okay?"

I nodded quickly. "Start moving," I instructed, tilting my hips slightly to alter the angle.

She slowly pulled back—nearly all the way—before thrusting her hips against my ass. At some point, my moans turned to a sort of high-pitched gasp, but it was all I could do to keep it together.

"Harder, faster!" I cried as I felt my walls clenching around the object, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. I collapsed against the sheets as Andrea slowly pulled away, my body shivering at the loss of contact.

I rolled onto my back and tugged Andrea on top of me, kissing her passionately. "I do hope you're not finished already," I said, sucking gently on her ear lobe.

"My you are insatiable," she said with a grin. "I'll have you know I'm nowhere near done with you," she said, bending down and taking my nipple in her mouth as she lined up the dildo and slowly pressed into my core.

Nearly an hour later, Andrea discarded the harness on the floor next to her bed and curled up against my body. My heart was still pounding. Andrea reached up and wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead.

"Andrea, that was incredible," I panted, still trying to catch my breath.

"Mmm, it was," she said. Apparently our activities had tired her out, too.

"Whereever did you get that idea?" I asked. We had never once talked about toys, and I for one hadn't used them since I was in my twenties.

"Well, I was going to give it to you to keep at work, if you ever needed release, or, I don't know, if you wanted to have phone sex or something. When I mentioned to the guy at the store that it was for my girlfriend, he insisted I get the harness to go with it," Andrea said. "So, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Oh, did I," I said, laughing. I suddenly propped myself up on my elbow and turned to her, "Was it okay for you? I mean, what did it feel like?"

"It was incredible," she said. "Really, to be able to bring you to orgasm like that with my hands and lips free was one thing, but it really just felt like it was a part of me."

"So it didn't make you uncomfortable or anything?" I asked. I needed to know she was okay with it.

"No, not at all. If anything, it made me a little more secure because now you'll never feel the need to go find an attractive, wealthy man to satisfy you."

"Darling, what are you talking about?" I asked.

"I have my insecurities, too," she said, rolling to her side and pulling the comforter up to her neck.

"You worry that you're not beautiful enough, that you don't have enough money, and that you can't satisfy me like—like someone like Stephen!? Oh do be serious," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I am serious, Miranda," she said. I realized she was on the verge of tears and I was practically teasing her.

"I'm so sorry, darling," I said, curling up behind her. "You are beautiful, Andrea, and no one else, aside from maybe my daughters and future grandchildren will ever catch my eye like you do." I smiled and pressed a kiss into her shoulder. "As for money, I've already told you that means nothing to me. I have too much of it for my own good. I wish I could teach my girls how much things cost, but when nothing is too expensive for them, it's hard. But as you know, I've earned my money. Just like you are now earning yours."

"Maybe I could help teach the girls about the value of money," Andrea said, turning over and looking up at me. "Would that be okay?"

"I think it's a marvelous idea, darling," I said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

"And, uh, what about satisfying you?" she asked nervously.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes again. "Andrea, quite frankly you don't satisfy me," I said, pressing her shoulders into the mattress as I hovered over her. "When it comes to you, I am absolutely insatiable. I can never, ever get enough, and I'll take whatever you give me because there will never be anyone else. Do you understand?"

Smiling, she nodded as I pressed my lips to hers.

"You know, I'm a little thirsty after all that screaming before," I said, winking at her as I slid down her body.

"Ohh god, Miranda," she moaned as her hips bucked off of the bed. I softly teased her folds with the tip of my tongue, enjoying watching her writhe with pleasure. "Please, I'm so close," she begged.

I slowly dragged my tongue across her clit and moved upwards just enough to look into her eyes. "Never. Leave me. Again." I said, thrusting my fingers deep within her core as my tongue captured her flowing juices, her passionate screams echoing through the empty room.

I crawled up next to her and rested my head on her shoulder, much like the way we initially fell asleep.

"Andrea," I said after a few minutes, gently rubbing my hand along her arm.

She opened her eyes and moved closer, kissing me softly.

"I love you," I said. "I want to spend the rest of my crazy, unpredictable, complicated life with you."

"I love you too, Miranda."

"Andrea, I'm serious. I still don't know how I feel about marriage—with my track record, plus the press, and the girls. But Andrea, I want you at my side for the rest of my life, whatever it takes. Do…do you accept?"

"Yes," Andrea said, smiling and pressing her lips to mine. "Whatever you're proposing, yes, yes!"

"Oh darling, I love you," I said, hugging her tightly. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this, but there's just been so much going on lately."

"It's okay," she said, "I understand. I kind of agree about marriage. I mean, I love you and I would love nothing more than to be your wife, but as long as I know you're mine and I'm yours, formalities don't matter to me."

"Sweetheart, I promise I'll get you a ring. I just couldn't wait. I had to ask you."

"Maybe we can shop together for _our_ rings, because I definitely want others to know you're off the market," she added with a smile. "Do you think the girls will be okay with the idea of us?"

"I'm certain they will—in fact, I know they already are," I said. "Speaking of the girls, James and I were considering that he would have them every other weekend and two days every two weeks. Does that sound okay with you?"

"I think it's a fair compromise," she said. "Can I still stay here in this apartment for a while?"

I felt my body grow tense. _Doesn't she want to move back?_ "You can do whatever you wish, but I hope you know that you're welcome at the townhouse," I said.

"I know. I'm just not very productive at your house because all I want to do is curl up with you," she said with a little frown.

"I feel the same way," I said with a smile. "Maybe I can come here some nights, or you can join us for dinner or maybe even a sleepover or two?" I asked.

"Well I know Caroline and Cassidy would like that, but I don't know about you," she said.

"Darling, I've said this before. I don't need this sexual intimacy as much as I need your companionship. You just being there with us, curled up on the couch watching a movie is incredibly satisfying for me. I don't want to raise the girls alone anymore. I want you there."

"Oh wait," she said, a wicked smile crossing her lips as she began trailing kisses down my neck. "So, you don't need this?" she asked, taking my left nipple in between her teeth. "Or this?" she asked, circling her fingers over my clit.

"Oh godddd," I moaned, batting her hands away. "Seriously, are you okay with my daughters taking up permanent residence in your life?"

"Yes, I am one hundred percent okay with that," she said with a smile. "Do you think they'll be okay with two overly-affectionate step-grandparents?"

My eyes widened. She hadn't spoken about her parents in a long time. "Of course, they would be delighted," I said, cupping her cheek. "Does this mean you've worked things out with them?"

"More or less," she said, shrugging. "I had no one to talk to yesterday so I called my mom and told her that she needed to stop waiting for me to bring home a husband."

"You didn't—" I said, biting my lower lip. "What did she say?"

"She was confused, so I explained that I simply wasn't attracted to guys, and that the last few years with Nate was like living a lie, not to mention he was occasionally abusive."

"Darling, I'm so sorry about that," I said, pressing my lips to her cheek. "Was your mom upset?"

"Well, I think it sunk in when I told her that I did, in fact find a handsome millionaire, but it wasn't who she was expecting. Naturally she asked more about this person, and I think she was in a little bit of shock when I told her it was a fifty-year-old woman with two preteen children."

"What did she say?"

"She actually surprised me," Andrea said. "I think dealing with my grandpa over the past few months has softened her. I think she realized how little she can actually control in the lives of others. It's like she's just grateful I'm willing to share with her."

"What did she say?" I repeated.

"She asked if I was happy, and I told her I was. She said that she was at least she would still get grandchildren and possibly great-grandchildren out of it," Andrea said with a smile. "I did explain to her that she was getting ahead of herself because we weren't official or anything, and I mean, at the time, I thought I would never see you again."

"Oh darling, I'm so happy for you," I said, wrapping her tightly in my arms. "I know how much your parents meant to you."

"Well, that was just my mom. I haven't really talked to my dad since he filed the divorce papers."

"What?! Sweetie, you didn't tell me this," I said.

"I didn't want to bother you—you had a lot going on this week," she said. "It's okay, though. They were great parents when I was growing up, but they just sort of grew apart and it was a daily struggle to live with one another. I think they're better on their own. Actually, I think it's part of my mom's change of heart, too."

I smiled and kissed her again. "You really are amazing, Andrea," I said.

"Not to change the subject, but can I ask about something you said earlier?" she said.

"Of course—what?"

"You said your children and future grandchildren…does that mean you're not planning to have any more children of your own?" she asked.

"Oh, darling, please don't look into that. I was simply thinking of Caroline and Cassidy growing up so quickly and starting their own families. Why, do you want children? I mean, aside from the two devils that come with this package?"

"You answer first," she said.

"Well that's not fair," I said. "Then you'll just say whatever I say because you like to agree with me."

Andrea stuck her tongue out at me. "Okay, how about we each write down our answer then show it to each other at the same time?" she suggested.

"Is this a game show? Really, Andrea, where do you suggest we get paper?"

"Uh, here," she said, handing me my Blackberry and picking up her own phone. "Type it in a text message to me and I'll type it to you. We can hit 'send' at the same time."

"Okay, okay," I said. Part of me was nervous to see what she would say. "So how is the question worded again?" I asked.

"Do you want any more children?" she replied.

I nodded and typed out a quite lengthy response, as did she. Apparently we both felt the need to qualify our answers. "Okay?" I asked. "Can we send?"

"Go," she said.

I anxiously waited to see her response, hoping mine would not disappoint her. I gasped as I saw her text flash across the screen: "No I do not. You and the girls are all I need. I want to spend the next twenty years loving you, traveling with you, having sex in the middle of the day with you…without a toddler interrupting."

I bit my lower lip and grinned as I reread her message. _Andrea Elizabeth Sachs continues to amaze me day after day, _I thought.

"Miranda, I don't think you're too old for another child," Andrea said quietly.

"Andrea, be serious. If the child were born this year, I would be seventy-three at his or her college graduation," I said. "But this sex in the afternoon thing…_that_ I am most definitely not too old for," I said with a smile.

"God, I love you so much," Andrea said, wrapping her arms tightly around me.

"I love you, too, Andrea," I said. "Do you think we can take a little nap?" I asked. "We actually didn't get much sleep during the night."

"True," she said. "I think we were both a little too emotional for sleep last night, but now I'm right where I belong," she said, squeezing me close.

"Yes, at my side," I murmured. "Good night, Andrea."

"Mmm, love you, Miranda."

"Love you, too, darling."

the end.

A/N1: To those of you who responded to the last chapter (thx!), did you seriously think I would take you through 95K+ words of Mirandy angst, only to leave Miranda loveless and alone? Tsk, tsk. You should know me better than that. I hope you enjoyed :)

A/N2: Thank you to all who've read and reviewed this story in whole or in part—the kudos and feedback are much appreciated. As of right now, this story is officially complete, though at some point in the distant future I may decide to add a Part Six to deal with Nigel/Doug, Miranda's brother Richard, life with teenagers, etc. Or maybe I'll just leave that up to your imaginations... xo


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